Enemy Mine
by bitter-alisa
Summary: This was destined to be the best feud ROH has ever seen - two men that find it so very easy to hate each other. Hatred is easy compared to dealing with some very unwanted feelings that start to develop as their enmity proceeds. M for swearing and Punk/Raven slash.
1. Challenge accepted

**Chapter 1: Challenge accepted**

"I hate him." Punk's stare follows the man dressed in what he would describe as a mixture between a kilt and a Japanese highschool uniform skirt walking past the ring to Gabe's office. They've been informed that Raven is joining ROH for a few storylines more than a week ago and Punk awaited the meeting with the legendary hardcore wrestler with great anticipation. The older man has been through and seen more or less everything this business had to offer and, Punk is sure, there could be many useful things to learn from him. If Raven would be willing to teach him.

Punk isn't all that sure of that even before he sees Raven, and now his suspicions grow stronger. Raven effortlessly ignores every look thrown his way, every hand stretched out for a shake, every greeting shouted. He takes a last sip of beer from the can, crushes it and throws it across the room over his shoulder, missing the trash bin, but seemingly giving zero fucks about it. Punk turns his glance at Colt Cabana after Raven disappears in the office and shuts the door behind him.

"Yep, I definitely hate him."

"You've seen him _once._ _Barely _seen. Don't you think that's a bit rash?"

"I haven't seen most people of this world at all, but that doesn't stop me from hating humanity as a whole," Punk points out.

"…Right. You're a rare ray of sunshine, you know that, Punk?"

"Thank you, I'll be here all week," Punk grins. "On a second thought, I won't. Let's see what Gabe has to say about this."

"About what exactly, Punk?" Colt shouts, but Punk just waves his hand, heading for Gabe's office, uninvited, uncalled for, but not caring about it in the slightest.

* * *

"I'd like to mention what an honor it is to have you here with us, Raven. I'm glad you have accepted my offer and I know several guys who are really eager to – "

"Yeah, I've seen the tapes you've send me," Raven responds, ignoring the verbal blowjob Gabe has been putting so much effort in. "And I think it's absolutely, utterly, brain-suckingly boring. Who am I supposed to work with here exactly? Samoa Joe? That's fucking ridiculous."

"He's our champion," Gabe raises his hands defensively. "I'd like you to run an angle with him so –"

"Just as I said – fucking boring." Raven interrupts the head booker of ROH once again, puts his booted foot on the table and lights up a cigarette, earning a warning look from Gabe.

"We don't smoke here," He says, cautiously.

Raven doesn't bother responding, he merely throws him a _look at all the fucks I give _look and blows out a cloud of smoke. His dark eyes linger on the photos covering the walls of Gabe's office, notably stopping at one of them.

"That kid, though…"

"Which one?" Gabe is willing to compromise, as long as that means that Raven stays with ROH. They've been having some serious problems lately, and Raven's presence would definitely raise the ratings. This is why he had made a compromise with himself in the first place, by inviting Raven to join the company. The man was known to be hard to work with; his moodiness and attitude were legendary, as were his habits of getting too wasted to perform. But despite all that the crowd always loved him, finding the troubled angry free-spirited Raven relatable and Gabe is determined to give them exactly that.

"The skinny punk with the look that makes you wanna punch him in the face."

"That would be me, old man," The door creeks open and Punk emerges in the room. He has listened through the most of the conversation and decides to make his presence known. "I'm not sure that whole punching thing is gonna work out for you, but you are welcome to try." He grins at Raven, certain that he made an impression. He doesn't really care what kind of impression, as long as there is one. He may not like Raven, he might hate him from the moment he laid his eyes on him, but he has to admit that there is something about the man that makes him want to show off, challenge, impress him. Prove that he is so much better than anyone he has seen. Better than him.

"You've got a mouth on you, don't ya?" Raven throws a barely-there smirk at Punk before returning to Gabe. "See what I'm talking about? Kid's got attitude. This is interesting. He's just seen me and dislikes me already. _This _I could work with."

"Okay, have it your way," Gabe sighs. "Let's run through the contract, shall we? Punk, you stay. Sit down."

Punk doesn't. He leans on the wall in front of Raven, which presents a possibility to conveniently stare at his opponent. Yes, this is how he calls him in his head, before any kind of storyline is even mentioned. He realizes that it is indeed going to be interesting. How Raven guessed that he dislikes him remains a mystery to Punk, but he figures that years and years of working with people have made Raven as insightful as he just proved himself to be.

Because he is right. Punk disliked him way before he even saw him for the first time today. Of course, he knew who Raven was, the hardcore legend, one of the most brilliant performers with an outstanding talent in mind games and getting the crowd. Raven – the one who could have everything, but instead ends up playing out the angles with indy kids, the one who basically blew it all off maintaining the lifestyle he has grown accustomed to.

The whole way Raven lives his life is what repulses Punk the most. Raven's lifestyle of constant drinking, drug usage and sleeping around with ring rats and people he works with is legendary, almost as legendary as his wrestling and mic skills. Punk knows that Raven somehow managed to make an entire career of being as degraded and miserable as it is humanly possible, and he can't help but find it fascinating. He could relate to that, the way he himself drags his own baggage into the ring, his messed up and troubled past making him cut the best promos reminds him of Raven's methods.  
Punk watches as Raven leans back on the chair, stretching and folding his hands behind his head, dangerously balancing on the edge of the chair, showing off his physique. Now Punk is openly checking him out, but Raven doesn't seem to notice – or care – as he half-closes his eyes and listens to Gabe's ramblings. Punk wouldn't call the man in front of him handsome – the lifestyle he led has left some significant traces on his face, but there is something attractive about him nonetheless. Whether it's the shade of former good looks still visible in Raven's excellent body shape or the dark appeal of a bad guy – the kind of people Punk is most attracted to – he is not sure, but there is something that draws Punk towards him.

Punk throws a sneaky glance at Raven again and is caught in action when Raven actually _winks _at him.

Punk hurries to turn his eyes away and blushes against his will. This makes him even more annoyed by the man – just who the hell does he thinks he is to wink at him like that? Who he thinks he is to make him blush?

Raven grins inwardly at how awkwardly that kid just checked him out and how adorably he blushed after Raven made him aware that his looks have been noticed. Just plain adorable – suck a cocky, opinionated kid, almost leering at good old Raven and then blushing like a schoolgirl. _Oh, this would be much more fun than I thought, _Raven realizes. He has to admit that the boy is really good-looking; the unkempt, dirty, messy kind of attractive, all tattoos and piercings and long hair, ripped jeans and baggy t-shirt hiding a well-trained body and a nice round ass Raven has been checking out while watching the tapes Gabe sent him. When Punk spoke, Raven noticed a tongue ring glisten in his mouth and now he can't help but to imagine how it would clang against his own. Interesting, indeed.

"Are we done here?" He asks Gabe, interrupting him yet _again_, "I'm not listening anyway."

"You know you could've just said so."

"Yeah, and spoil you the pleasure of listening yourself talking?"

Punk can't hold a snort. He has never met anyone being so disrespectful and arrogant towards Gabe and managing to get away with it. Except himself.

"Just sign it and get out of my sight, both of you." Gabe slides a sheet of paper across the table towards Raven.

"Does this mean I get to think the storyline through myself?" Raven asks. "You know it's gonna be for the better."

"Sure, whatever. I trust you, "_Even though I shouldn't, _Gabe adds to himself.

"Fine." Raven puts his signature on the contract and gets up from the chair. "Let's go, kid."

He grabs Punk's arm and drags him out of the office. The touch sends a jolt of electricity through both of them, but Punk is the only one to shiver. Raven's grin widens when he's sure the kid can't see him. _Just how easy is he?_ He wonders to himself when Punk squirms out of hold and turns away.

How adorable.

This here could be a mildly entertaining challenge – to see how long it will take him to get this kid into his bed. But that's dull, Raven thinks, he has done it countless times before, they are always so easy, so easily persuaded, and he doesn't even have to try anymore. Where is the fun in that? How long it would take the kid to come to him on his own? Now that would be interesting. Raven has all the time in the world to wait him out, and something in the look of this little punk, the same look that makes him want to punch him in the face, is telling him that it's going to be worth it.

"So," Raven says when they sit on the window in the hallway, "The plan is that you get on that stage in Boston and spill all that's eating you. I'm sensing there's gonna be a lot of shit coming out of that pretty mouth of yours, so you'll get everyone pissed, and then – "

"How do you know what I'm going to say?"

"C'mon, kid, everyone knows how you're better than everyone," Raven snorts. "No alcohol and drugs and that Straightedge thing. Surely everyone hates you by now for being an opposite of what your regular wrestling fan is like."

"That was the point," Punk smiles proudly.

"You like to be hated?" Raven quirks his pierced eyebrow. Just how fucked-up is this kid?

"I like to be different," is an arrogant reply.

"That you surely are," Raven mutters. "And then look at me. I've probably put more drugs and alcohol in my body than all those people combined and I'm proud of it. It made me who I am and they relate to me because no matter how good I get, how high I reach, I'm still fucking miserable."

"What's your secret?" Punk asks sarcastically. Raven's face twitches, but he doesn't raise to the bait. If the kid wants to play it snarky, snarky is what he's going to get. Later.

"Back to the point. You go there, you rant all you want about how you hate me, which you clearly do – if not, you're a fucking idiot and you will learn to as we progress – you piss everyone off for hating on their idol – " Raven snorts at the word, "And this is how our feud begins."

"Aren't you gonna show up and beat me funny for such blasphemy?"

"I don't think so," Raven grins at that and takes his leave.

* * *

Punk learns that Raven is a lying asshole the hard way.

He doesn't exactly prepare a promo on Raven – he never really prepares what he has to say – he just gets the mic and lets his hatred flow. According to some unspoken rules, he is supposed to say at least something pleasant towards his opponent – but he doesn't. Not because he has nothing good to say about Raven, because he definitely does, but because it's much easier to hate him. Punk has thought about their brief encounter for much longer than he would like to admit even to himself, let alone to Cabana, who has been nagging to tell him how it all went and what Raven is supposed to do in ROH. Punk throws him a few details, no major spoilers, not to mention his own conflicted feelings towards his newest opponent. Because he really _does _feel very much conflicted. He lets all the frustration out in the ring, words just flow and that just might be the greatest promo he has cut so far – because hating Raven is so natural. So easy.

Much easier that dealing with the attraction towards him.

He hasn't seen Raven backstage so he just assumes that the older man stayed true to his word and admires Punk's speech from somewhere across the country. He drops the mic on the ring floor and retreats, followed by loud boos and swears, and he chokes on his own words when he almost bumps into Raven on his way out.

"You said you won't show up," He whispers, frustrated, so that only Raven would hear him.

"Couldn't miss all the show now, could I? I've heard my name mentioned," Raven grins in his ear as they make their way back up to the ring.

"I really hope you are wearing some trunks under that skirt," Punk hisses at him, and then Raven gets hold of the mic. Punk's promo could easily fade away compared to how Raven manages to get the crowd, and that pisses him off even more, and that's probably a good thing, because when the match begins, all the frustration and tension really come in handy.

The fight is brutal; several minutes in and he manages to bust Raven open, blood flows down the older man's face and that fuels Punk even more. He decides that physical punishment is not nearly enough so he goes for a flat-out mockery between the moves, getting even more heat from the crowd, and he could really care less that the cheers are not in his favor. He gets his dose of punishment, too, Raven is just as good as Punk thought him to be, and he's not above playing dirty. Punk learns that after being put through the table and sneak-attacked by Trinity, but that doesn't really matter when he hits the Pepsi plunge and gets his pin.

This by no means is an easy victory, it is unexpected too, and Punk still can't believe it when he's already in the shower after the match. He lets hot water flow over his sore body, leaning on the wall, when he hears a voice from behind.

"Not bad, kid."

The tone isn't a complimenting one, but Punk takes it as such when he turns around, grabbing a towel to wrap himself in.

"You're not too bad either. For an old man."

"One would think you'd learn some respect after all the dodging you did today."

"One would be wrong," Punk replies in tone, "I wasn't ready for a match. Considering that, I did much better than you."

"Yeah yeah, you weren't ready and still won. Do you expect a pat on the head for that?" Raven sneers at the younger man, leaning on the wall covered by a mere towel. Tiny droplets of water are still glistening on Punk's slightly tanned skin, and Raven can't stop thinking that there's nothing under that towel and that he could take the arrogant kid right here and now, but he manages to snap out of it.

"Anyway. Wanna go get a beer? After you're done here, I mean."

"I don't drink," Punk sneers at him with all the contempt he can muster. "In case I haven't made myself clear."

"So that's a real thing then," Raven shakes his head disapprovingly. "You don't drink, you don't smoke, you don't do drugs… how very fucking dull. What else you don't do?"

Punk suddenly becomes aware just how close Raven stands and that he's basically naked, here, with the man he loathes with all his heart, in a completely empty locker room…

"One night stands," He replies the first thing that comes to his mind after these realizations. Raven quirks his eyebrow, making a small step back.

"And I have to be informed about your sexual lifestyle because...?"

Punk blushes.

"Well, you asked me."

"That was a rhetorical question to underline just how dull your life choices are." Raven clarifies, grinning. Blushing Punk always makes him grin, the boy is so obviously attracted to him and so ridiculously conflicted about it that Raven is determined to do all in his power to see more of that.

"Relax, kid, I'm not going to attempt to dishonor you here," He says, turning on his heel. _At least, not now._

* * *

I perfectly realize that this isn't the most popular pairing ever, but I'm just really frustrated how few of Punk/Raven fics are there.

Thank you all who read this, and feel free to tell me how was it. I so appreciate it.


	2. Perks and perils of being Straight Edge

Just to clear it up, this is _not _a prequel to "Deserving?".

* * *

**Chapter 2: The perks and perils of being Straight Edge**

Raven had a vague suspicion that his determination to wait the kid out to come to him first will come back to bite him in the ass; what he didn't expect was for it to happen this fast. He thinks that if he would put some effort into it, he'd get Punk easily enough, but he starts to regret his decision not to do so, since the stubborn kid shows no intentions whatsoever to approach him.

Two weeks have passed since they first met, two weeks since Raven saw this messed up, cocky and annoyingly attractive kid, two weeks of glares and occasional gropes in the ring, two weeks of restraining himself from any sorts of passes towards CM Punk. Two weeks and Raven is starting to get rather impatient; so impatient he starts to consider dropping the act and making the first step.

He likes to work with people who can wrestle, and he likes to fuck people who are interesting; the kid possesses both of those qualities, and this is why Raven has no intentions on giving up on him. Occasional fucks here and there don't help his frustrations in the slightest, because every time he comes only when he pictures how Punk would feel and taste under him. This is getting fucking ridiculous, Raven realizes, this obsession has gone too far. So far that soon he will actually start to care for this, care for this damned kid, try to get under his skin, not just into his pants, and that would be the worst thing to happen, because Raven knows better than to let people too close.

The moment Raven decides that he should stop this bullshit, sleep with Punk and get it all over with, he sees one of Punk's friends, the one they call Homicide, approaching the bar and ordering beer and Pepsi.

Pepsi. Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

Punk immediately regrets agreeing to join his friends for a couple of drinks in some bar few blocks away from the hotel they're staying in. One, he knows that it's not gonna be just a couple of drinks since Joe successfully defended his championship – not that he had any doubts about it. And two, because the moment they make themselves comfortable around one of the tables and Homicide heads to order the drinks for them, Punk notices a certain hunched figure at the bar, messy hair and a leather jacket combined with one of those ridiculous skirts and a pair of combat boots – a dead giveaway of who exactly has chosen this same bar to drown his sorrows in.

Raven.

_Great, this is exactly what I needed the most_, Punk sarcastically thinks to himself, _another encounter with him, of all people._ As if dealing with Raven's presence on the trips, backstage and during the matches wasn't enough, now he has to deal with him even in his free time. Punk tries to shrink on his stool as much as possible in a hope to at least remain unnoticed. This plan fails miserably as soon as Raven notices Cide ordering the beer and Pepsi; he immediately turns around, his eyes searching for Cide's company, and he smirks at the moment his glance meets Punk's. The past two weeks have been pure hell for Punk, and it seems that Raven is fully aware of the effect he has on Punk and he certainly is not above using it for his own amusement. The insightfulness that Punk was so fascinated with now is way less of an admirable quality, when Raven seems to see right through him, right to the core, where under the hate and contempt Punk hides all the attraction towards him. Punk can't help himself but to steal occasional glimpses at Raven in the locker room and feel like shy schoolgirl each time he's caught in action, which happens far too often to be coincidental. Raven can't keep his eyes from him too, not only eyes but hands and snarky remarks too, and all this situation drives Punk crazy because all of it doesn't mean that he stopped hating the man for everything he does with his life.

He could be working for WWE, winning championships, gaining recognition, proving himself, and what is he doing instead? Instead he wrestles for nearly broke ROH, promoting no-name wrestlers, fucking ring rats and drinking his misery away every chance he can. Everything was delivered to him on a silver platter and he just flipped it all over. Punk can't wrap his head around this.

There is a small voice inside him telling that Raven probably has his reasons to live the way he does, but Punk chooses not to think about it, because it would mean diving deeper into understanding and relating and _caring _about him, and that is something Punk definitely doesn't want to do. Lusting after the man he loathes is bad enough; making those feelings more personal would be even worse. This is why he resigns to stalling, trying to win more time before the inevitable breakdown, before he or Raven gives up, before he falls for him completely and has his heart torn apart by all the conflicted feelings and Raven's inability to care for anyone longer than it takes to fuck them.

If he has learned anything from watching Raven, is the fact that he never, _ever _makes things between himself and others personal. He can fuck them or he can fight them, but the moment it's over he turns around and walks away.

Punk is so deep in his thoughts that he misses the entire conversation going on around the table completely, and he snaps out of it only when Raven's name is mentioned.

"He's totally staring at you." Colt nudges Punk in the ribs, not-so subtly nodding in the general direction of Raven. Punk follows the nod and catches a short glimpse Raven throws at him before turning back to bartender. He orders another drink and seems to be engaged in his current activity, that is, getting as drunk as possible before the night is over. Punk frowns in disgust; he has been keeping an eye on Raven too, and he already lost count on how many beers he has downed since they came.

"Shut up. He is not." What Punk needs the least now is his friends to notice the tension between him and Raven, the tension that has long crossed the limits of the ring.

"He so is. Not even staring. He's fucking leering at you." Colt seems to be enjoying this way too much, but then again, making each other feel uncomfortable is more or less the keystone of their friendship.

"Would you stop this? What is it, highschool? Are we doing the _oh my god, he looked at you _thing now?"

"But he _did _look at you." Hero takes Colt's side. "There, he did it again." As if sensing that they're talking about him, Raven sends the group another glance, lingering on Punk.

"I think you need to go and talk to him." Ace states.

"And tell him what exactly?"

"Asking what the fuck is his problem would be a great start." Chris offers.

"Or punching him in the face." Homicide's suggestion seems much more appealing; Punk would so love to punch that arrogance out of the older man's face, but by now he knows better than that.

"Yeah, I did it before, look how that worked out. I still have no idea what his problem is."

"Well, I'm just gonna go ahead and say that you're getting your pretty ass fucked, that's what it is." Hero grins, and it's not a good grin; he seems to know exactly what kind of tension flows between Raven and Punk. _Shut up, you're just fucking paranoid, _Punk thinks to himself and decides to play dumb:

"Meaning?

His question remains unanswered, because for some reason Joe takes offense to Hero's word, putting his bottle on the table with a loud thud and getting dangerously close to Hero's face.

"Did you just say that Punk's ass is pretty?"

"Well, it's surely prettier than yours." Chris doesn't back off, also lowering his drink and narrowing his eyes at Joe.

_Too fucking late, _Punk sighs; his friends reached the stage where they get overly touchy-feely and try to sort their nonexistent relationship. This happens awfully often lately, and their seemingly never-ending argument skyrockets with the amount of alcohol they get into their systems. This – among many others – is the reason why Punk hates to babysit them drunk or hangover; he definitely doesn't like to be engaged in these sorts of conversations, because it all usually ends up in separating two big-ass drunken idiots who immediately forget all the wrestling moves and start the most ridiculous – and dangerous – cat fights Punk has ever seen.

"You are all fucking dumbasses." He gets up, deciding that dealing with one drunken idiot is much better than dealing with the whole bunch of them.

Also, he really _does _want to find out what the hell Raven's problem is.

"I could say that you should take a picture because it lasts longer, but I'm pretty sure that you have plenty of them already," Punk throws, making himself comfortable on the stool next to Raven. "Also the videos that Gabe has sent you. So you have something to drool at. Or is the live version so much better that you just can't stop staring at me?"

"I'm just surprised to see you in a bar. I thought you didn't drink?" Raven half-asks, half-states.

"I'm here with my friends. I thought you were clean for a while?"

"Yeah, I was. All this shit makes me bored and depressed," Raven obviously hints at ROH. "Also, friends, you say? They seem to be leaving without you."

Punk turns around and much to his annoyance Raven is right. He sees the back of Joe's head in the doorway and the rest is apparently already out. _Fucking Cabana, _he thinks, he is more than certain that his so-called best friend set him up on purpose.

"But how the hell did you manage to get any friends in the first place is a mystery to me," Raven continues and shakes his head. "With your less than sunny disposition I wonder how you didn't piss off everyone you've met."

"Believe it or not, I'm actually a nice person," Punk frowns at him. "I don't see you all surrounded by friends and girlfriends either."

"I don't like people."

"Of course you don't. Or people just don't like _you_."

"That was a cheap shot and you know it," Raven grins, "I know you can do better than this."

"I can," Punk responds with a burst of arrogance, "But you are an easy target. It's boring," Punk smirks in content of turning Raven's own words against him, but the older man doesn't rise to the bait.

"So, drowning the pain of loss in alcohol as always, Raven?" Punk asks after a minute of silence.

"If I was drowning my sorrows each time I lose to some kids, I'd be –"

"An alcoholic. Which you are."

"I'm not even that drunk," Raven protests, but then it hits him. He could perfectly pretend to be more intoxicated that he actually is, over the years he has learned that people tend to be more open around drunks, thinking they won't remember whatever is said and done around them. This could all play out in his benefit, and Raven mentally congratulates himself when he stumbles upon his own feet climbing off from the stool.

Punk catches him mid-air, not letting him land on his face.

"Are you sure, old man? It seems to me that you can't hold your liquor as well as when you were young," Punk mocks him, placing Raven's compliant body against the bar.

"Yeah… I think I'm gonna call it a night," Raven tries his best to slur his words. "Since your friends screwed you over, we can share a cab."

"I don't need a cab," Punk frowns lightly. "The hotel is few blocks away and I'm perfectly capable of walking."

"Yeah, and I'm not," Raven frowns back. "So unless you feel like dragging me all the way there, we should get a cab."

"Or I could leave your drunken ass here and let you crawl back on your own."

"I thought you said you were a nice guy," Raven smirks, and it probably breaks his act of being shitlessly drunk a little, but Punk doesn't seem to notice.

"Alright. But you owe me and I hate you."

Raven laughs at that and waves the passing cab to stop.

Punk basically pushes him in the car and sits beside him, which surprises Raven; he thought the kid would sit next to the driver, but he leans over telling the address and stretches in the seat. The journey is supposed to be short and Raven decides to make the best of it, leaning on Punk's shoulder, keeping up his act, not saying a word, pretending to be dozing out, but in fact registering every slightest Punk's reaction. None really follows; the shoulder Raven is leaning on stiffens a bit, but Punk doesn't back away. This is yet another surprise of the night for Raven, and he doesn't move an inch, enjoying the sensation of being so close to Punk.

When they reach the hotel Raven still pretends to be asleep; he hears Punk sighing and paying for the ride, and then he quite carefully wraps his arm around Raven's waist and throws Raven's hand around his shoulder to drag him to his hotel room.

The warmth of Punk's touch seeps through Raven's shirt and spreads all over him, pooling in his lower stomach, and this is when he mentally thanks himself for drinking about enough not to embarrass himself.

"I'm gonna need your key to put you in bed, unless you want me to drop you here," Punk says, not really expecting an answer when they reach the door to Raven's room.

"It's in my back pocket," Raven mutters.

With a sigh Punk leans him against the wall, at the same time digging through the back pocket of Raven's skirt for a key. This touch makes Raven shudder noticeably, and this time he damns the alcohol for losing control of his own reactions. His face is in the crook of Punk's neck when he's bent over him, holding him in place, and Raven curses everything in this world when Punk leans up and his lip ring sparkles in the dim light of the hallway.

_To hell with it,_ Raven decides, pulling Punk closer and pressing his lips against Punk's, tasting the cool metal of the piercing contrasting with the warm softness of Punk's lips. Punk freezes for a split second and then Raven feels him kissing back, hesitantly, but responding. He nibs ant the ring and licks the seam of Punk's lips, deepening the kiss successfully, because Punk sighs in his mouth and lets him in. Raven tastes of whiskey and smoke, but that doesn't make Punk recoil, because this is exactly how he imagined Raven to taste like and he wouldn't have it any other way. For once he lets himself go, not thinking about his principles or any consequences of his actions, and caresses the roof of Raven's mouth, taking in that specific taste of him, not just alcohol, but something so purely Raven that it makes him shiver and sigh.

He opens his eyes and notices that Raven does too, and a dangerous sparkle in Raven's eyes makes Punk pull away.

"Ew, you're drunk," He throws at Raven, trying his best to hide the hoarseness of his voice behind the fake disgust.

"Yes. And you're easy," Raven shoots back, sucking in his own lower lip, gathering the last taste of Punk.

"You sick asshole," Punk hisses, narrowing his eyes and stepping back.

"Also you seem to be left without a room," Raven grins, nodding at the sock hanging from the doorknob of the room that Punk shares with Joe.

"God fucking damn it. What is it, college?"

"I'd be more concerned with the fact that that fiend of yours actually managed to get laid."

"…Fuck."

"Exactly."

Punk just glares at him. The perspective not having a place to sleep pushed the very conflicting ad confusing kiss to the back of his head. _Fucking Joe_, he thinks, _and fucking Hero. And fucking Cabana. I need better friends. _

"I dragged your ass home, so I'm staying in your room."

"As you wish, kid. The floor is all yours."

* * *

Thank you guys for all the interest you've shown! Once again I didn't expect to get reviews and follows, since it's quite a rare pairing about the events which happened a forever ago. THANKS! you people are the best! I'm very glad to see my favorite too verbose anon too :)


	3. An offer you can't refuse

**Chapter 3: An offer you can't refuse**

Punk's heart is racing as he pushes Raven into the room, simultaneously searching the wall for a light switch. The search fails and he decides _fuck it, _because he feels Raven's hand creeping under his t-shirt and that makes his breath stuck in his throat. Rough fingers find their way and trace the outlines of Punk's ribs before going down south, and this is when Punk battles Raven's hands off him and drops him on the bed. Raven leans back on his hands and fixes his stare on Punk, daring, slightly mocking, but lustful.

Punk hesitates. He wants what could follow, that's for sure, he wanted Raven from the moment they first talked, but he doesn't want it this way, when Raven is drunk and probably wouldn't even remember it in the morning. He doesn't want it to be a one night stand; one of Raven's countless one night stands which don't really mean anything to him.

Punk certainly doesn't want his first time to happen this way.

He can't even explain it to himself – why he wants it at all, wants it so desperately that for a second he thinks of compromising with his own principles and just going with a flow. He hates Raven's guts, hell, every fight they have is a proof of that hatred, but when they are alone, especially now, Punk can't keep himself from thinking how it all would feel like. The tension between them has been building up for weeks, and now that Punk had a taste of Raven's kiss it seems almost impossible to stop. He wants more. Much more.

Punk opens his eyes he unconsciously has closed shut, breathing in sharply, determined to give in whatever follows.

He approaches the bed and freezes, dumbfounded. He can't believe his own eyes and gives out a quiet nervous giggle at the ridiculousness of the situation.

While he was bracing himself, Raven has passed out.

_Un-fucking-believable._

Punk sighs with a mixture of disappointment and relief. It definitely saved him from a very, very bad decision, but it was also very frustrating. But of course, what else could he expect from Raven? Raven was the very fucking definition of disappointing.

But Punk still doesn't have any other choice but to stay in the same room with him, because there couldn't possibly be anything worse than to walk in on Joe fucking… well, whoever he was fucking.

Punk hopes to god it isn't Hero.

He sighs and starts to unlace Raven's boots. It's not the first time he undresses his drunk passed out friends (if only he could forget the fact that Raven is _not _his friend), and he has learned over the time that sleeping in shoes and clothes makes for one hell of an unpleasant morning. Not that the morning would be pleasant for Raven anyway, but that's the least Punk can do.

He pushes away the thought about why does he bother at all. He pushes the thought that he's doing it just to have a chance to touch and see Raven even further. He pulls Raven's body up in the bed, making him more comfortable. Shirtless and skirtless, Raven lies in front of Punk's sight, and he can't help himself but to run his fingers along the sword tattoo going across Raven's torso and down into his briefs.

_Stop this,_ he thinks to himself and pulls his hand away as if it was burned.

It wasn't. Raven's skin is surprisingly soft and smooth, despite looking rough and rugged.

Punk takes another deep breath and snaps out of it, covering Raven with a blanket and tugging him in. He grins and admires his handiwork from afar as he takes a step back. The least he can do is to have fun with it, and he made it damn sure that fun he will have.

He can't wait to see Raven trying to struggle out of these blankets when he wakes up in the morning.

* * *

A shift of weight on his bed is what makes Raven wake up from deep dreamless slumber he was so blissfully in. Blissfully, because with his eyes open now, he has to deal with a sickening headache and dryness in his mouth and a gaping hole in his memory. He tries to turn on his back and gets stuck in the covers wrapped around him; he curses when finally manages to struggle out of tight grip of sheets, he hears a quiet giggle which he immediately chalks up to hangover hallucinations. No matter how drunk he gets, he always makes sure to kick out whoever he fucked before passing out. It's one of the core principles in his generally principlesless life, and sure as hell he would never break it.

In fact, he can't recall actually bringing anyone to his hotel room from the bar last night.

He can't recall how he got to his room at all.

It has something to do with that annoying kid he's been so eager to fuck lately, he is sure, he remembers them exchanging snarky remarks at the bar and leaving together at some point, but that's about it. _Wait, what? _Raven rewinds his train of thought. Punk. Him. Leaving. Together.

"Oh fuck. Oh my fucking god."

"There's no god," A nonchalant voice reaches from somewhere dangerously close to him, "And even if there was one, I don't think he'd reply to such a blasphemous call."

Raven lifts his very heavy head from the pillow and there's a figure sitting indian style on his bed, right next to him. Raven blinks a couple of times and hazy figure reveals itself to be CM Punk staring back at him with a mischievous smirk plastered on his face. The kid is dressed in the same clothes from yesterday and it doesn't look like he has gotten any sleep at all. Raven has a hard time figuring out why in the blue hell there is CM Punk in his bed in the first place. Has his dreams started to come true? His memory is completely blank; he must've been more drunk than he though, because he can't remember a thing from the moment Punk dragged him out of that bar. He probably passed out the moment he managed to get himself in the bed. This doesn't explain Punk's presence and the fact that he finds himself naked except for his briefs and is all comfortably tucked in, though. What the hell has happened?

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Raven frowns at the silhouette of Punk, outlined by the sunlight seeping through the window, deciding that the direct approach would require considerably less effort than actually trying to remember.

"Waiting for you to wake up, sleeping beauty, what else?" From what Raven can tell, Punk is grinning widely as he watches him struggle with blank memories and hangover. Of course, Punk would find this amusing. But it's still not an answer Raven is waiting for.

"Seriously, kid. Why are you in my bed?" He realizes just how wrong that sounded only after it is already too late to take his words back. "Did we…?"

"You don't remember shit, do you?" This seems to amuse the kid much more than it should. "Jeez, what an opportunity! I could say whatever I please and you'd have no other choice but to believe me." He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, which makes Raven's frown go even deeper. "I could totally say that we did and then you'd have to marry me to save my soiled dignity."

"Oh my fucking Jesus." Raven rubs his face, trying to wipe away the headache and the slight embarrassment that creeps in against his will.

"Exactly. That's terrifying. So no, we didn't. Which was the most anticlimactic ending of the night _ever. _You are getting old, Raven."

"Fuck you." It is a lame comeback, he knows it, but he is in no condition for snark battles, because it seems that that's all what he and Punk are doing lately. Much to his disappointment.

"You missed your chance," Punk grins devilishly at him and Raven remembers just why exactly he hates the kid so much. "Get out of bed, old man, I got you coffee."

"Fuck your coffee, I'm not moving."

"One would think you'd learn how to cope with a hangover over the years." Punk says getting up. "You know what? Fuck you. Next time I'm gonna let you drown in your own vomit, you alcoholic piece of shit."

"Well, aren't we both just rays of fucking sunshine," Raven mutters, unsuccessfully unwrapping himself from the blanket, and making himself stuck even more. He gives up the idea of breaking free and just sits up in bed, throwing a stare in Punk's general direction.

"We so are," Punk flashes him a smile, not an evil grin, for a change, and Raven realizes that it's the first time he doesn't say something insulting to him. He smiles back, and then Punk actually places a tray with a mug in Raven's lap. "Good guy, remember? Even though you are an alcoholic asshole unable to keep his hands to himself."

"I wasn't even that dunk," Raven takes a sip of coffee and closes his eyes in complete bliss. "And I'm always in perfect control of myself."

"Perfect control my ass. You get drunk and start kissing people and trying to get in their pants and then you fucking pass out. Yeah. I would say you're completely responsible for your actions."

Raven's eyes shot open, meeting Punk's green stare. He's not smiling anymore, and that's when everything clicks into place. Punk's lip ring glistening in the hallway lights; Punk's hands around his waist and on his shoulder; his own lips on Punk's, their tongues molding together, their piercings meeting with a metallic clack; Punk responding to his kiss and then pushing him away. Then – complete darkness.

Anticlimactic, indeed.

"Wasn't that what you wanted?" Raven asks after a pause, trying to regain his trademark arrogance and sarcasm.

"I guess you'll never know," A last flash of Punk's grin, and he leaves, just like that, not saying a word more, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

Punk nervously glances at his phone and with a great relief realizes that he's not late for his traditional after-match lunch with the guys. He doesn't want to miss it; one, because he doesn't want to leave any room for speculations as to how and where he spent his last night and two, because he is determined to tell his so-called friends what exactly he thinks of their behavior last night. The words he's going to say sure as hell aren't going to be pleasant.

He realizes that the first part of his plan is doomed to fail when he sees Cabana's grin all the way across the diner. He also notices that glance Chris and Joe shared. It is not a good kind of glance, and Punk curses under his breath as he approaches their table.

"You assholes," He throws without any preamble, and his words are met with a burst of obnoxious laughter. "You, Joe, are a dick. You, Cabana, I know it was all your planning all along. I hate you all."

"I fail to see how I am a bad guy after trying so hard so you'd get laid."

"God knows he could use it," Joe grins in agreement.

"…But I fell like my efforts are not appreciated at all," Cabana fakes a pout, which isn't working too well for him, because he bursts into giggling a mere moment later.

"What the fuck are you morons talking about?"

"Oh come on, Punkers, we all see how you want to fuck Raven," Chris explains for all of them, and the group nods simultaneously. "So we wanted to speed things up a bit. Did it work out?"

"I don't think he'd be the one doing the fucking," Joe chimes in again and Punk decides that he hates Joe with passion and that he definitely needs better friends.

"You'd be an expert on that," he shoots venomously, but none of them minds even in the slightest.

"I don't think there was any fucking involved at all," Chris continues, as if it was a discussion they had even before Punk showed up. "Kisses and cuddles and taking it slow, aren't you?"

"Fuck you."

"It's _my _job, Punk. Not yours."

_Oh god, could this possibly get any worse? _Apparently it can, because Colt places a glass of coke in front of Punk, with a _I'm not even sorry _tone saying:

"This place didn't have Pepsi, so we got you a coke instead."

"I hate this place. I hate you."

"So, I'm guessing he _didn't _get laid after all," Colt announces to the group and Punk just buries his face in his palms, giving up on the conversation.

_Better friends. Definitely._

* * *

Raven slides down under the ring rope and heads backstage with a firm determination to corner Punk this time. He just had a tag team match with BJ against the damned kid and his friend Colt Cabana, who appeared to be not half as bad as Raven expected him to be. Everything about CM Punk seems to go not as Raven expects, and it really annoys him. They won against him, again, and even though Raven is used to be frustrated about his losses, nothing compares to the feeling he's experiencing now. He is furious. The kid is good, no doubt, the match was hard and the victory was fair and well-deserved, even though there was too much dodging for Raven's taste.

This seems to be Punk's forte. Dodging.

Kid has been avoiding him for a week, again, he's so damn good at it, that Raven can't wrap his head around how is he doing it; Raven leaves the ring right after the matches and yet Punk is nowhere to be found or is surrounded by his loyal sidekicks and Raven finds it rather exhausting to try to isolate him from the pack. But this time he is determined to talk to Punk one on one, no matter the cost.

He has made too many compromises with himself as it is just to give up mid-way.

He can't prevent his mind from going back to the night Punk dragged him to his hotel room. He still can't forgive himself for screwing it all over; his perfect plan of pretending to be drunk came to bite him in the ass when he appeared to be more intoxicated than he thought, and he ended up having just a small taste of what he could actually get if he was able to carry out his master plan. The kissing part went all ass over tits, and there's no one to blame but himself. But he'd be damned if it wasn't all worth it. A teasing taste made him yearn for more, and he has made his choice to do whatever it takes to get it.

Luck seems to be on his side when he catches a glimpse of Punk shutting the door behind him, clearly intending to take a shower and change from his ring gear. This is no obstacle for Raven, he never cared much for the privacy of others, so without any ceremonies he opens the door and meets a very dissatisfied green stare.

"Good match, kid," He says, not blinking, letting his eye linger on Punk's lean body, still glistening with sweat. He swallows hard before continuing, "We need to talk though."

"I don't think we have any common topics," Punk sneers at him, pulling a t-shirt over his head, much to Raven's disappointment and relief.

"You'd be surprised."

"Go on. Surprise me."

Raven wants nothing more than to wipe away that arrogance and self-confidence from kid's face – with a nicely aimed punch in his jaw, or, even better, with a kiss that would make him shut up for good – but that's not what he came for.

"Look, I'm no good at all the beating around the bush thing, neither am I blind or an idiot. I want you. Preferably now, but I'm open for suggestions."

Punk just quirks his eyebrow in response.

"Well, that's hardly surprising."

Raven growls inwardly, the urge to punch the kid in the face overcoming everything else, but he retains his composure.

"I know you want me too."

"I don't do one night stands, I told you." Punk shrugs, picking up his sports bag. He could shower in the hotel, he decides; this conversation was going all the wrong ways and he has no desire to continue it any further. He has put a fair amount of thought about what happened between him and Raven and about what _could _possibly happen, and the way he sees it, the only chance to save his dignity is to stay away from the older man. As far as possible. And being in one room with him, being so close he can actually feel the heat radiating from raven's body and smell the sweat and cigarette smoke lingering on his skin, is definitely not helping him to stick to his decision.

"Who said it'd be one night?" It's Raven's time to raise an eyebrow. This is the compromise he was thinking so much about – he wants Punk, with all his Straight Edge bullshit and fucked up personality, he wants him so much he is ready to put aside his own principles. "We could do the whole thing, if you want to. Flowers and chocolates, movies and fancy restaurants and all," he says, frowning at the mere thought.

"That's bullshit," Punk frowns back. "I don't sleep with people I don't feel anything for."

"You hate me; that's a feeling."

"Are you really that desperate?" Now Punk mocks him openly and that makes Raven cringe. Is he? Is he really that desperate? But now there is no turning back, there is only an attempt to leave gracefully, so before leaving Punk to his shower, he throws over his shoulder:

"We both know you want it. You also know where to find me."

* * *

So now it's Punk's call. Will he? Will he not?

Also, **showstopper87**: I've given your suggestion a fair amount of thought and I still can't figure what to do with it. At first it made me shudder, I mean, bottoming Raven?! Ugh. But then again. I guess I could make it work... Thank you for your input!

All the other awesome reviewing people (the amount of which has reduced since the last one, much to my sadness) – what do you think? Bottom!Raven – yay or nay?


	4. Insomnia and romance

**Chapter 4: Insomnia and romance**

He would love to say that he doesn't care even one bit about Raven's proposition, if anyone asked him. He would love actually not to care or put so many thoughts into it, but he can't, he just can't, it tempts him, it freaks him out, it confuses the hell out of him.

He would love to say that it didn't surprise him, that he totally saw it coming, that he knew exactly how to handle it.

He doesn't.

If there ever was the time when CM Punk is absolutely confused, conflicted and terrified, it's this. Of course, he has seen how Raven looks at him, hell, the man kissed him that one time, he has made his intentions more than obvious when he said he wants him. What Punk still can't figure out is why the hell Raven is so damn determined to get to him. From all he knows, one of Raven's fortes is to mess with his opponents, he is so well known for his neverending, sick mind games, just look at Sandman, for instance, look how it all ended up for him. There is no way in hell Raven could actually be genuine and honest in his intentions; if observing Raven has taught Punk anything, it's the fact that the man cannot and should not be trusted.

That does not mean he doesn't want to believe it nonetheless.

The sheer fact that Raven is so stubborn in his passes, that he doesn't seem to be giving up on getting in his, Punk's, pants, fascinates him. He honestly can't recall the last time anyone was this determined to get him (he doesn't think it ever happened at all), and he can't help but find it flattering. In its own twisted way. Feeling desired is certainly not something Punk is used to, no matter how often Colt says he is being completely oblivious to people having crushes on him. Well, Raven made himself quite obvious, Punk gives him that, and even though he is not sure how genuine was his half-promise to take their hypothetical relationship further than a one night stand, Raven wants him, and Punk is not going to ignore it this time.

Then there is that whole issue with him hating Raven, but over the past week, ever since that kiss, it has boiled down to some sort of a mild annoyance, probably because he hasn't made any more moves towards him and Punk is too much of a coward to actually do it himself. An invitation is still open, and yet here he is, in Raven's town, Atlanta, and does nothing but paces around his hotel room he shares with Colt and overthinks the situation over and over again.

He hasn't slept in ages, and it really gets to him now, he is both exhausted and exhilarated, one moment he is bouncing off walls and the other he crashes without any warning, but he can't ever fucking sleep, and after a fourth day in a row it starts to worry him. He has to do something, he realizes, getting laid usually helps, he thinks, but these kinds of thoughts lead to thinking about Raven, about that night Raven got drunk and overly-touchy, and when Punk almost threw away his principles and this is definitely not something he needs to think about right now.

He closes his eyes and slides down on the bed, the exhaustion kicking in, and that's how Colt finds him half an hour later. Punk is sitting on the edge of his bed, hiding his face in palms, trying to figure out whether there would be any point in trying to fall asleep, and Colt comes back from some sort of a party, giddy and slightly intoxicated, and Punk just grits his teeth in annoyance when Cabana asks him something along the lines why is he there all alone, not having fun or getting laid on this glorious Friday night.

Punk is determined to remain stoically silent, and Colt being Colt keeps talking, seemingly not noticing the lack of reactions from Punk, and his never ending chatter starts to give him headache. Punk decides that he had enough after Colt starts telling him something about Raven being in the bar with them and leaving early.

"I am not talking to you." He says, loud and clear, hoping that this will make Cabana realize just how unwanted any kind of communication is.

"Fine, knock yourself out. Be mad. Be stubborn. See how that helps you." Somehow his best friend manages to catch up on what exactly made Punk talk, and it frustrates him even more. Punk still has not entirely forgiven his friends for that set-up situation and the mockery that followed. Being a rude sarcastic asshole as he is, he is still pretty bad at making fun of himself or taking even the light-hearted jokes from Cabana. He hasn't really talked to any one of them for a while, and that does not surprise neither of his friends; he has his dark moments, especially when he doesn't get enough sleep and starts snapping at people more often than usual, and this usually is a sign that he should be left alone.

"I don't remember asking for help, Cabana." He still replies through his teeth.

"Well of course you didn't. When do you ever?"

"Seriously, how's that any of your business?" They both know exactly what are they talking about without naming the topic.

"Okay, I'm sorry, damn it! We thought it would be fun, okay? Who knew we hit the soft spot?"

"You didn't." Punk clenches his teeth even harder, suppressing some very unpleasant comments.

"Sure. You keep telling yourself that." Colt actually snarks at him.

"I thought you just asked for my forgiveness?"

"Would you fucking stop denying everything? We see how you look at him. We see how _he _looks at you."

"How, smartass?"

"He looks at you like you're his next meal. You look at him as if you wouldn't mind in the slightest." This is so true and so close to his own observations that Punk doesn't really know what to reply.

"Yeah, as if you'd know anything about it." He decides to go for a sarcastic remark and watches Colt pout for a second. The matter of Colt's non-existent private life is a usual topic for jokes, and if Colt is not above making ironic comments about Punk's sexual activity (or, most likely, the lack of thereof), why should he restrain himself? Punk looks at Colt, briefly contemplating taking the joke even further, but realizes it is not worth it and then crashes on the bed. "You know what? Fuck it. Go on. Rant all you want. I'm too fucking tired to argue."

"When was the last time you've slept?" Great, now there is a distinct trace of concern in Colt's voice, Punk hates when he goes all mama Colt, checking on his meals and sleeping schedule.

"…Last week." He mumbles in response, hoping that at least this time Colt would catch up and leave him the fuck alone.

Not gonna happen.

"Listen, Punkers, you've gotta do something about –"

"Fuck you," Punk cuts him off, getting up and storming out of the room. There had to be a solution to his state and sure as hell he was going to find it.

* * *

It's one of those extremely rare occasions when Raven actually has the time to just hang out at his own place, relax and do whatever he pleases, one of those times when he can actually get some sleep, and yet he is restless. He doesn't sleep too well lately; hell, he even decided to go for a drink or two with the kids from ROH, thinking that getting shit drunk would give him a few hours of deep quality sleep. He can't carry out his determination, he gets bored and he goes home, and despite that he could do anything with his free time, he does absolutely nothing. Raven sits on the couch in the living room because he can't really force himself to get any further in the house. He briefly considers the idea of calling his ex-wife, but a quick fuck would definitely not be worth the bother when he would have to deal with her bullshit later on.

He wonders yet again how did it ever seem a good idea to get married at all.

If someone would tell him that deep under his cynical façade, that under all the debauchery and drugs and degradation he just wanted to be loved, he would probably laughed that person in the face and kneed him in the stomach. Even though it is true to some extent; Raven stopped believing in the bullshit called love long ago before he got married. His relationship with Selina was based on something entirely different than love and he preferred not to think about it more than necessary. He did care for her, though, which was just about the worst thing he could possibly do, and that taught him that it's most beneficial for him not to care at all. He was successful at this, at the whole no strings attached thing, even though he believed that concept to be fundamentally wrong, he has mastered the art of fucking and not caring to perfection.

And then CM Punk happened.

He couldn't possibly have made a bigger fool of himself, Raven thinks now. Their last encounter still makes him shudder with embarrassment and disgust; he has no idea what has gotten into him, what made him so damn desperate for that cocky annoying kid, and when he still doesn't come to him after a few days, Raven has no other choice but to accept his ultimate failure both in getting the person he wants _and _in the whole not-caring thing.

Because when he sits all alone in his house, wallowing in self-pity and frustration and does nothing else but rethinks and relives his encounters with Punk, he cares so much it hurts.

A doorbell drags him out of his musings and for a while he sits there dumbfounded and stares in the general direction of the hallway. No one ever comes to him, or at least not that he knows of, because he is barely ever home, and those friends he has still managed to keep over the years know better than to visit him at home without calling him first. It is 3 a.m., and it is definitely too late or too early for Mormons or Jehovah's witnesses; not that he would open the door for them anyway. After a while of guessings Raven comes to a conclusion that he has no fucking idea who could that possibly be and then the doorbell rings again.

Raven really has no other option than to get himself off the couch and at least look who the hell decided to bother him at this ungodly hour.

He carefully parts the blinds covering the window next to the door and his eyebrows rise at the sight of CM Punk, pacing back and forth in his front yard. Raven leans back and takes a few deep breaths. When he looks again, the kid is raising his hand to ring again; there is no trace of doubt or uncertainty on his face as he does so, and it annoys the hell out of Raven, whose heart at this point is racing so fast that he is afraid Punk might hear it. Punk looks determined and composed, and it is so unbelievably frustrating: how dare he be so fucking calm when he is all tripping here? Who the fuck does he think he is?

He takes a few more breaths; he takes his sweet time since Punk doesn't seem to be going anywhere any time soon. He does his best to keep his composure and trademark snark. He can deal with this. He can have his fun.

After all, it was never supposed to be anything more than that.

When he flings the door open, he apparently startles the fuck out of Punk and all his composure seems to disappear with one single glance they share and Raven grins inwardly. He was definitely going to have fun with that.

They stand silent in front of each other for what seems like an eternity and Raven decides he can perfectly wait him out, it's his house and Punk is the one who bothered to come; so he takes his sweet time at staring at the kid. He has to admit, Punk looks like shit, dirty blond hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, bags under his eyes as a clear indication that Raven is not alone in his insomnia.

Surprisingly enough, Punk doesn't say anything before he pushes through Raven inside of the house.

"Sure, let yourself in, why don't you," Raven mutters under his breath, closing the door behind them and following Punk deeper in the house. They reach the living room when the kid finally speaks up.

"Listen, Raven, I've been thinking…"

"Don't hurt yourself there," He sneers in response, though he might as well be dancing on the inside; Punk gave up, he realizes, he has crawled to him just as he expected him to. The fact that he has called him Raven instead of the usual snarky "old man" hasn't escaped his sight either, so he figures it is safe to assume he's on the right track, on the track to another victory, it makes him grin quite visibly now, even though a thought of how easy it was flashes through his mind.

Punk just stares at him, like a rabbit caught in blinding headlights, and Raven can't hold a comment before making that small step into Punk's personal space.

"You're adorable," He smiles, and then they are kissing.

It takes Raven to navigate them both to the bedroom much faster than he initially anticipated, and even though he is surprised by how willing Punk is, he can't really complain.

Punk's lip ring his considerably colder than Raven remembers it to be, and he hurries to suck his lower lip in, caressing it at the same time. There is still some hesitancy present, just like the last time, it irks Raven more than it should and he tangles his fingers in Punk's hair, making it even messier than it was, pulling him closer into the kiss, almost expecting him to back out, but he doesn't. He sighs into Raven's open mouth as if deciding something for himself and then he is finally kissing him back with full power, smooth side of his tongue against Ravens, and they both grin at the familiar clang of their tongue rings.

Raven smirks at kid's courage when Punk grabs his hand and guides it to the growing bulge in his jeans; he catches breath when Raven squeezes it gently and unzips the offending article of clothing just to discover no underwear between his hand and Punk's hard length.

"Raven," Punk breathes out pushing into his hand, and he probably is going to add something more to that, but Raven is not having any of it. He drops on his knees not nearly as gracefully as he would like to, pulling Punk's jeans down along the way and drawing another sharp gasp from him as he wraps his lips around the head of Punk's cock. A few lazy sweeps of tongue and Raven thinks he could totally get used to these quiet soft moans.

"It only gets better," he hums, lifting his head and looking up at Punk.

"You've done this a lot, haven't you?" Punk asks and Raven frowns; it is in no way his intention to have Punk all musing and overthinking and doubting, he wants the kid to come undone before him, but something in his tone catches his attention.

"You haven't done this at all," he more states than asks, and the light blush on Punk's cheeks is a dead giveaway that Raven was right. _God fucking damn it, _he thinks, cursing everything in this world, but now he really has no other choice than to resume the task he has so thoughtlessly engaged himself into.

"I… I want you to – "Punk whispers when Raven gets him close enough to the edge, and he knows exactly what Punk means and can't make himself say, and it takes much more self-control than he would have ever guessed not to follow Punk's wish.

"No way. You aren't ready," He explains with as much composure as he is capable of, just before leaning back down and taking Punk whole, he knows that kid won't last long with his tongue sliding on the underside of Punk's cock, cool metal of the tongue ring pressed against hot flesh. Punk's fingers dig deep into Raven's shoulders as he cries out wordlessly and Raven swallows all the younger man has to give him despite his usual resolutions on the subject.

Punk collapses on the bed and looks genuinely surprised when Raven doesn't follow, his eyes saying _what about you, I bet you need to be taken care of_, but Raven shakes his head and heads for the bathroom.

"I can take care of myself, kid," and he really needs to, because his own pants grew definitely tighter than he remembered them to be. He locks the bathroom door behind him, and it takes a ridiculously small amount of time before he's done too, because Punk's face as he comes is burned in Raven's memory and his taste still lingers in Raven's mouth.

When he cleans himself up and returns to the bedroom, Punk is sound asleep, curled up on Raven's bed. Raven frowns lightly and covers him with a blanket, strips off his own clothes and lies right next to him, still keeping his distance as much as it is possible, not even barely touching Punk.

Chivalry?

It was always an empty phrase to Raven, but now sharing a bed and a blanket with the person he wants more than anything and being satisfied with merely feeling the heat radiating from Punk's body, he comes to think that there might be something worthwhile behind this concept.

* * *

Thank you ALL awesome people for your input! Every review and opinion is important to me, so keep 'em coming :0

My special thanks go to:

**showstopper87 -** thanks for keeping me awake while I was writing :) I hope you'll feel better soon, dear :)

**lamentomori** - thank you for your amazing amazing reviews ever since Deserving? and for that astonishingly beautiful story you are writing. It kept me motivated. :) Dear readers, go check on her "Tail of a comet", I can't even start describing how perfectly gorgeous it is.


	5. Pillow talk reversed

**Chapter 5: Pillow talk reversed**

Raven is not entirely sure what dragged him out if his sleep this time, because when he finally decides to face this world and open one of his eyes, he is nowhere near well-rested. His view is blocked by the blanket, as it usually is, it has something to do with him hiding from the world and pretending he isn't there; no one can see him, he can't see anything either – therefore, he doesn't exist and doesn't have to deal with anything. This time there is something he absolutely _has _to deal with, though; Raven always has a heightened awareness of his surroundings even though he doesn't necessarily remember what happened the night before. It is definitely too warm in his bed, not enough air or space; there is someone – well, not just someone, but one certain Punk – breathing ever so softly right in his ear, and that tickles as fuck, and there it is, the reason he woke up in the first place.

Yes, this is something that has to be dealt with immediately; so he turns around, as carefully as he can not to wake the kid up and pushes Punk's head from his shoulder on the pillow. He doesn't seem to be awakened by Raven's ministrations, Raven is not surprised, the kid looked like he hadn't slept in a year, but he still sighs in relief; postponing the awkward conversation is most definitely welcome, and it would probably be a good idea to think this over, analyze the situation, but fuck it, with the source of tickles removed from his ear, Raven can steal some more sleep and that's what he does, backing away almost to the edge of the bed. Not that he couldn't trust himself with the whole not taking advantage thing; he has proven himself his so-called chivalry last night. _Not so-called, I was as fucking courteous as I could possibly be, _Raven correct himself, and he should probably also think why he is so determined not to fuck Punk until they have reached some sort of an agreement or at least not until the kid is ready for it, but sleeping seems as a much easier option.

Approximately two hours later, if Raven is to believe his built-in inner clock, he doesn't even have to open his eyes to know what exactly woke him up. He could feel the pile of blankets he's covered with just burning under an intense stare and for once again his habit of covering his head has proven itself to be useful. It's time for awkward conversations, it would seem, so he sneakily shifts in bed so that covers would partly slide off his face.

"You can stop staring me anytime now." He says loudly and clearly, still not opening his eyes.

"I'm not staring."

"You are. I can feel it. I can hear you thinking. I can't fucking sleep because you're thinking too loudly and staring at me like you're going to burn a hole through me."

Punk must be freaking out there, because Raven's sleepy grumble is met with deafening silence. He can still feel him staring, though, but he'd be damned if he is going to open his eyes, it's too fucking early for those sort of things, it must be ten or eleven or so, and if they could quickly sort this out and go back to sleep it would be fucking amazing. That's not gonna happen, though, _well, fuck you too, kid,_ Raven thinks and considers trying to fall asleep again in a hope that Punk would be gone by the time he wakes up _naturally. _

_Yeah, how about no, _that's what his shit of a luck must be thinking.

"So, what now?"

"What now?" Raven echoes from under his cover.

"Well, since we're both awake and shit. What are we gonna do about it?"

It takes much more than Raven thought to resist the urge to push the kid even further by asking _about what precisely_, but that wouldn't really help to carry out his master plan of making Punk disappear from his bed so he'd have some time to wake up properly and think things over.

"_You _are awake. I am not." He says instead. "So what _I'm _gonna do is try to wake the fuck up and then get out of bed and eat. Seems reasonable."

"What are my options?"

_You've gotta be kidding me, _Raven groans inwardly. The funny part of this whole surreal situation is that they're having this conversation still not looking at each other, and Raven is pretty sure that he should keep it that way, so he turns on his back, eyes still shut.

"You can either get the fuck out," Raven sighs, "Or stay and have breakfast with me."

Punk is silent for far too long to be still considering his _options_ and Raven almost thinks he'd fallen asleep, but no, kid is awake and kicking, so to speak, his voice reaches Raven through all the layers he's hiding under.

"Can I ask you something?"

Raven peeks from under the covers once again. _Can I ask you something, _seriously, how official, he just blew him the night before and now they are sharing one bed and one god damn blanket, and here he is, all tensed up, _can I ask you something, _what the fuck is that supposed to mean? _Of course you fucking can, _Raven thinks, _it's not like you dick was in my mouth, _sudden burst of annoyance filling him, but instead he just grunts something remotely resembling an agreement.

"Why did you choose to work with me, of all people?"

Now that's fucking ridiculous, he just woke up and all he can think is work, does that kid ever rest? Determination is admirable, of course, it's something Raven has lost ages ago, but Punk deserves his answer. Hell, maybe Raven could even make a whole lecture on that, despite the fact that it's fucking 11 in the morning; he could definitely make an exception.

"I saw how you stared me down when I was heading for Gabe's," Raven explains, "I have no fucking clue why but you looked at me like I ate your dog, and I thought I could definitely work with that." The whole checking him out in the videos part could definitely be skipped, Raven decides, at least for now, he must have appeared as a creepy stalker as it is.

"Why?"

"Because it's always better to work with someone you have some sort of chemistry with."

"Why?"

Raven sighs and drops back on the pillow. This just might take a while.

"There are two types of people who watch wrestling. One – those who enjoy good fights and just that. The come for matches, for good technique and skills. I'm not one of those. Second – those who enjoy following elaborate storylines, those who build up their likes or dislikes and root for their favorites, watch them get their wins and title shots; they choose who to hate, they love to see them punished, beaten down, destroyed completely. These are the people who bring the most to the company you're working for – these are the ones who will buy all the tickets, who will wear your merch and will fly across the country to see you perform. And I say _perform, _not _wrestle, _because if you want to become good, really good, you have to be orientated to please that second type of people, you have to build your character, you have to inspire love or hate, whichever you prefer or are better at. And you most definitely can't achieve that by pure wrestling. You have to know how to make the crowd tick; you have to make them buy your hatred towards the other guy or the audience itself, again, whichever you prefer."

Punk listens in silence, for a change, he doesn't interrupt him, and Raven feels somewhat proud of being able to shut him up. One way or another. This is definitely not the preferred way, but beggars can't be choosers, and the kid could definitely use a lesson.

"Heels and faces," Punk muses in agreement.

"Yes and no. Tell me, which one of us is the heel?"

"I am."

"Yeah, because I'm being the biggest babyface here, with all the examples I set for my fans," Raven snorts. "Wrong. We both are. And that is what is the most interesting about our feud."

"What it has to do with me disliking you?"

_Here we go again, _Raven thinks, _amazing how he can talk about hating me and still lay naked in my bed a few inches from me._

"How did the rivalry with Cabana work out for you?"

"It was boring."

"And there is your answer."

They lay still for what seems like another hour, which it probably isn't. Time seems to flow unnaturally slowly, Raven could think of millions of things he'd rather be doing – most of them involving either Punk directly, or the plans of getting him out of his house– and yet he doesn't make a move to do any of them.

"It's probably a weird conversation to have while lying in bed naked," Punk voices his exact thoughts, and Raven can't see his face, but he's damn sure the kid is blushing.

"Had weirder," he grins and ignores Punk's mumble _I bet you did_. "Speaking of which. Why _are _you in my bed?" Now he shifts in bed and props himself on elbows, staring directly at Punk, who, he has to admit, looks hilarious: lying on his back, straight and tensed, staring directly at the ceiling, hands above the covers.

And, of course, blushes.

"Accidents happen," he mutters, and Raven isn't entirely sure what does he mean by that. By the looks of it, Punk is not sure what he meant either, but apparently it's as close to truth as it could get, because he doesn't elaborate on that. This is both hilarious and so very uncharacteristic of Punk, from what Raven has learned, the kid would never miss an opportunity to hear himself bullshitting his way out of nasty situations, and yet here he is, lying still, blushing like a maiden, not saying a thing. This is definitely not what Raven wants to see though, this is not the Punk he's used to. But then again, Punk hasn't been quite himself from the moment he entered the house.

"Yeah, I guess you sniffing out my home address was completely accidental," Raven taunts, because what would return _his _Punk to him better than a traditional snark battle?

"Absolutely." Punk replies, all seriousness, but a small smirk creeps in the corner of his mouth, and once again Raven can't help but find him adorable. "So, what comes next?"

"Didn't we just have this exact conversation? Did I dream of it? Because I could swear we did."

"That's not what I mean," Punk throws a frown at him.

"Oh, I know what you mean," Raven mimics Punk's expression right back. "But the question is do you really want to do this now?"

"Do what exactly?" Green eyes sparkle at him with amusement, and Raven regrets not making fun of him when he had the chance; but the usual Punk is back though, and that's gotta count for something. So he just clenches his teeth and swallows the obvious innuendo, _bad, bad choice of words, Raven,_ and does the best to turn their train of thoughts into something more neutral.

"Sort out our relationship," he offers.

"Oh, so now we have a _relationship._"

"Well, I did offer you to have a breakfast with me. It doesn't really get more relationship-y than this."

"Who knew you could be such a gentleman, Raven. With your reputation…" Punk smirks at him one last time before rolling out of bed.

"Second door on your left," Raven informs him checking out that perky ass of his that Punk doesn't bother covering, and when Punk gives him a questioning glance, he elaborates, "The bathroom."

He's not entirely sure how the whole breakfast thing is going to work out, he is even less sure why he suggested that in the first place and what happened to his intentions to kick the kid out of his place as soon as he is awake enough to move, but that must be his newfound chivalry thing, and he decides to roll with it at least for the time being, because that means he doesn't have to complicate things by overthinking them. And god knows this is exactly what would happen if Punk would leave right now. Of course, there is still a possibility that he will bail on him, but the sound of flowing water from the bathroom is somewhat reassuring.

Well, it seems that his hopes to steal a few more hours of sleep were just ruined, and now he doesn't really have a choice but to get up and think what could he possibly cook at this ungodly hour.

* * *

Shower doesn't really clear his head all that much. The only thing it seems to be doing is wash away that specific smell of Raven that Punk has started to really enjoy while lying in bed and waiting for the old man to wake up.

This whole situation he has gotten himself into is absolutely surreal from the very beginning of it, from the moment he called Gabe in the middle on the night to ask where he could possibly find Raven. The conversation with the head booker was amusing to say the least; Gabe was absolutely certain Punk is seeking him out for a sole purpose of having some sort of a personal vendetta on him and was more than hesitant to give his home address. The tone of Punk's given his insomniac and slightly insane state surely didn't help the case, and he can't quite recall how did he, in fact, manage to convince Gabe of the purity of his intentions. The fact is that he did, and that's what counts in the end, that's what led him to the point he is now, staring at Raven's impressive war make up collection and the army of nail polish bottles lined up on the shelf under the mirror. He shakes his head in amazement; this is so ridiculous it actually gives him ideas and he doesn't really feel bad for snatching the black polish and slipping it in the pocket of his jeans. His fingers stumble upon his long forgotten cell phone and when he looks at the screen on his way down the stairs, the amount of texts almost makes him trip over his own feet.

02:14 Cabana: Jeez, I said I was sorry

02:30 Cabana: No need to overreact, I even promise not to make fun of you

02:42 Cabana: Punk?

03:04 Cabana: Where fuck are you, it's not funny anymore

03:08 Cabana: Did you fall asleep on the street and froze to death? It's not even that cold

03:10 Cabana: I'm seriously worried. At least call me if you're still too pissed to come back

03: 19 Cabana: Fuck you, I'm going to sleep

08:59 Cabana: Are you dead?

09:00 Cabana: If you are, I assume there's no signal in afterlife so that sucks big time

09:03 Missed call from: Cabana

09:05 Cabana: PHILLIP. PICK UP YOUR GODDAMN PHONE. NOW.

09:09 Cabana: Ok, if I die from being sick worried, it'll be on your head

09:10 Cabana: I'm rewriting my will and it's not gonna be in your favor.

09:15 Missed call from: Cabana

09:30 Cabana: If you won't pick up, I'm telling Ace that you gone missing and you won't like it

09:41 Missed call from: Ace

"Fuck," Punk hisses entering the kitchen and passing by Raven who seems to be wholeheartedly engaged in mixing something up by the stove.

"Not quite," Raven responds not turning around. "Pancakes."

Punk's phone beeps once again.

11:12 Cabana: If you're alive, I swear, you gonna wish you weren't

"Fuck," Punk states again.

Relax. Breathe. I'm texting you back right now. Sent: 11:13

I am alive Sent: 11:13

11:13 Cabana: Where the hell have you been?

Long story. Sent 11:14

11:14 Cabana: Should I call you?

No need, I'm on my way, Punk starts to type, but the phone is snatched out of his hands before he hits the send button.

"You're not going anywhere," Raven states nonchalantly, suddenly he's right behind his back, freaking Punk out. He sends Raven a death glare and stretches his hand at him, demanding his phone back.

"Promise me you'll stay and you can have it back."

"Fuck you," Punk hisses, "Give it back, or he'll come with a fucking army."

"Sure," Raven snorts in response, but gives the cell phone back and resumes his manipulations by the stove. _Fuck it, _Punk decides, he bought this upon himself.

Yes. Sent 11:16

Phone bursts into ringing right away and Punk picks up immediately.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!"

"Having breakfast," Punk answers, watching Raven put the first pancake on the plate and sliding it towards him across the table.

"Of course. We're dying here from worrying about you all night and you're fucking eating."

"I'm hungry," Punk chews obnoxiously loudly on pure principle. "Also cut the crap, Cabana, from all I know you were sleeping like baby and texting me whenever you got up to pee."

"That is very true." Colt muses on the other end. "But still. That was mean. Where are you, anyway?"

"Guess."

"You're at Raven's, aren't you?" Punk can just feel Colt grinning over there, and the fact that his phone volume is loud enough for Raven to hear the conversation and grin too is not helping him in any way.

"Yes," There really is no point in lying, he figures.

"Did it help?"

"Did _what _help?" He surely had just about enough innuendos for one morning.

"The fucking." Now Raven actually chokes on his pancake and bites his fist not to burst into laughter. "Because damn was that bad last night. I was even considering doing something about it myself."

Now it's Punk's turn to choke on his food.

"NO. Just no, Cabana. Bad visuals."

"That's insulting."

"It's fucking terrifying, that's what it is."

"I'm hurt; wounded, even."

By now Raven isn't even trying to hold back the laughter, and Punk briefly wonders just how the fuck does he manage to get in the situations like that. Apparently, Colt hears Raven's reaction, because he asks right away:

"Was he any good?"

"Had better," Punk answers, even though it's not exactly true, hell, it's blatant a lie and he knows it, but he still says it, out of spite, _serves him right, _he thinks, looking at Raven quirking his eyebrows. Multiple voices and laughter from the other side of the phone catch his attention back to the conversation.

"Am I on the speaker?"

"…No."

"Yes you are, and this shit is fucking hilarious!" It's Cide, and from the way his voice echoes, Punk concludes that Colt didn't even bother to seek some sort of privacy for the conversation; it is more than likely that they are all in some diner and his sexual life is being discussed for the whole wide world to hear.

"Fucker. I hate you."

"Trust me, you gonna hate us even more when you finally show your face here," Cabana laughs and hangs up, apparently convinced enough that Punk is alive and fine.

"I believe him," Raven smiles at Punk, another fucker, what is it, when did the entire world conspire against him?

He doesn't reply and eats in silence, not even looking at Raven anymore; pancakes are good, very good, he has to give him that, and he chooses to think that his silence is the way to pay his respects to the delicious meal and certainly _not _his reaction to overall weirdness of the situation. He briefly considers commenting on Raven's cooking abilities, who knew the man could do something else besides opening a bottle of beer, but that would be a very cheap shot, and he has had a fair amount of those today already. His sense of humor has gotten considerably worse given the circumstances, usually he would find the situation hilarious, but that's Raven here in front of him, not to be confused with a normal human being, and that's why it's not even funny. He puts his empty plate in the sink and turns to face the man who has basically turned him into an awkward nerdy schoolgirl after sex with a jock she would usually despise but now can't help but want the whole thing to be repeated again. _Bad visuals._

"So," he clears his throat, "I really have to get going."

"You gonna bail on me just after I fed you?"

"What would you rather have me do?" Annoyance in his voice is much more distinct than he would like it to be. "Wait, don't answer that. I bet you have plenty ideas."

Raven gets up from the table too and steps into Punk's personal space once again, and completely freaks him out by placing a tiny barely-there kiss on his lips. It's so brief that Punk doesn't even have the chance to respond.

"Whatever _you_ want, kid. It's still your call, you know. I've made myself clear enough." He says, his voice uncharacteristically hushed.

"Yeah, and I made myself clear too last night, haven't I?"

"Not at all." The hint is way too transparent, and for a split second he actually considers going with it, but something stops him. Whether it's the fact that he's still not convinced by this whole relationship deal which seems suspicious to say the least and is not even confirmed yet, Punk is not sure, but it seems that Raven isn't all that sure either, because his hint seemed more as a question, and Punk has no idea how to answer it.

Something in Raven's expression changes, however, he seems distracted by some sudden though and Punk is not sure what to make of it.

"Why are you looking at me like this?"

"TNA."

"Come again?"

"I said, TNA. You should come to TNA with me. Now."

"With this whole newfound relationship thing, one would think you would want to stop fighting." Punk tries out the new term, just to see how it sounds and how would Raven react to it, but the older man just smiles, still distracted, his eyes barely focused on Punk, he is clearly somewhere far away from this kitchen. He replies nonetheless, and this is not exactly the answer Punk expected, but it makes him grin all the same.

"Never."

* * *

Okay, I've probably never done this much editing and rewriting for any of my fics as I did for this chapter and I bet there is still something I managed to mess up, for instance, the actual timeline, but I keep mixing it up all the time anyway, so there's that. I'm still not entirely happy with the chapter, but it mostly has something to do with me reading a perfect piece of art and thinking that by writing anything I would just embarrass myself. Anyhow, you all amazing people get my gratitude for staying with me on this one and I hope you'll stick around for the rest to come.

**InYourHonour** - thank so much for you continuing support! I appreciate it so. I am very happy you like it.

**showstopper87**, your self-sacrifice makes me so proud of my work, I just hope I'm living up to your expectations and I make your sufferings worth it.

**lamentomori**, for sure you know by now how much I love and appreciate every single word you write. Rays of gratitude and admiration to you!


	6. Falling is just like flying

**Chapter 6: Falling is just flying**

"You wash the dishes," Raven says, "I cooked, you do the clean-up, and I have a call to make."

He doesn't give Punk any indication whether he should get the fuck out or join him afterwards, and Punk is most definitely _not _going to ask him that. It _really_ doesn't get any more fucking coupley than that, Punk thinks, scrubbing the dishes clean; except for one thing, the thing he actually came for. Ignoring all the desperation he wants Raven with is the way to go, apparently, even though it will probably going to come out all the wrong ways later on and result in some very unhealthy overthinking, but at least he is honest with himself now. He can allow himself to wallow in self-depreciation afterwards and Cabana will surely be glad to help with his lame-ass mockery.

Punk shudders by a mere thought of meeting his friends after this little adventure of his which somehow became a public knowledge. Thanks to Colt.

That is why he just goes out of the kitchen in a blind search for Raven, he didn't really have the time to take a tour around his house lately so finding the living room is takes a little bit more time than he would like to admit; Raven's voice is what makes Punk locate him. Apparently, he is still on that call he was talking about, although he seems to be finishing it when he sees Punk in the doorway.

"Yeah, he'll call you. Ok. Yup, exactly as good as they say. Maybe better. Me, biased? If I didn't know better… No. Tell him I said to fuck off and die."

Raven ends the call without as much as saying goodbye, he never really bothers himself with all that social standards, and now his stare lingers on Punk for longer than a mere glance.

" You're doing it again. Staring. Is something wrong with the way I look?"

"No. I'm just honestly surprised that you actually own a pair of pants."

"Funny."

"I know. I'm fucking hilarious." There's that maddening self-assured smirk again; someone should tell the kid how incredibly attractive that is, Raven thinks to himself.

"So, what's the deal with TNA? We're gonna bring our Straight Edge vs. Alcoholic Degenerate thing there too?"

"Nope," Raven lights up a cigarette and blows out a smoke circle and watches the combination of both fascination and mild disgust grace Punk's face. _Jeez, kid, get over yourself, it's just smoke,_ he thinks and blows another one. "You're gonna be my biggest fan."

He lets the idea sink in for a moment.

"I'm not your fan," Punk states after some consideration. Raven snorts; the stubbornness the kid is sporting is truly admirable. _You surely aren't, and yet you are still here after all, aren't you?_

"You sure about that?"

Just when Punk opens his mouth to protest, Raven grins once more, he'd be damned if the kid doesn't have something witty to reply to that, but he's starting to get tired of his shit, _indecisive little fucker, _and shuts him up that very instant, swallowing any words that might come out of Punk's mouth by kissing him, a little bit more fiercely than he initially intended, but the annoyance and pure desire take over and damn he has to start learning to keep himself under control, or else this while chivalry thing might as well fly through the window.

When their tongues tangle together Punk can't help himself but still be fascinated by how breathtaking the feeling of Raven's piercing against his is; he doesn't think he'd ever get used to that, warmth and softness and a small trace of sweet syrup still lingering there and something that tastes purely _Raven, _he could try and describe that taste – a little bit of smoke and bitterness and how a cold metal tastes like when you lick the door handle in winter – but he's overthinking again, when there are so many things he'd rather should be doing.

On that thought, he creeps one of his hands under Raven's shirt, and yes, his skin is just as smooth as he remembers it to be from that other night, he honestly can't wait to trace those tattoos of his again, but no reaction follows, none whatsoever, Raven doesn't even tense up, _now that's what I call self-control_, Punk thinks. He continues with the sliding, though, mapping well-defined muscles of Raven's back and at the same time tugging on his shirt with another hand, and that's when the kiss ends just as abruptly as it begun.

"Yeah, kid, I don't think so," he states, pulling away, positioning himself within a safe distance from Punk, it's not like he initiated the whole thing this time, but Punk is positively happy to see Raven's breath ragged, even if ever so slightly.

"Why?" His efforts not to sound like a whiny little bitch have definitely failed him and the only thing he can hope is that Raven won't pick up on this.

"Because," he explains slowly, as it was something obvious, which it fucking isn't, "We need to talk this one over first."

"Of course. Raven, missing an opportunity to talk. What was I thinking?"

Raven just rolls his eyes at him.

"Are you absolutely sure about this?"

"No. How about we fuck till I decide?"

"How about you call Jeff – or Jerry, whichever you prefer, really – and talk over your appearance in TNA? I told them you will."

"What is it about you being so fucking stubborn about this whole thing?"

"What is it about _you_ being so fucking stubborn?" Raven frowns at him and replies exactly in tone and Punk really has no other option than to grab his phone and retreat.

"You're really excited about this whole me being your fan thing, aren't you?"

"Excited is a strong word, kid. Let's see how it goes." And this here could be the fucking subtitle of the whole situation they're in, Punk figures; one moment he offers a fucking _relationship –_okay, without the actual fucking part – and the other he is all composed and focused and basically pushes him away. He should probably be grateful for this odd courtesy thing going on, but he really isn't, he, for once, is annoyed.

"Not picking up," he claims after a few attempts to reach both Jarretts.

"Doesn't matter," Raven shrugs, "They agreed on a try-out, so you talking to them is more of a formality to talk over the time when you're seeing them. Actually, I can take you there, say… When we're done with the show today."

"We'll need to sleep after that."

"You're getting way too obvious, but sure, you can crash here, if you want to."

"Perfect."

They spend the bigger part of the day discussing the possible storyline in TNA and Raven fills Punk in with the information and gossips about his colleagues-to-be. Time flies; somehow it's so easy to forget all the contempt this man used to evoke in him, when they are talking. He is brilliant in what he does, for sure, Punk has to give him that, there's so much he can learn from him, and unintentionally his plan to get into Raven's pants has led him into convincing Raven that he is worthy to be taught. They realize what time it is when Punk's phone rings again, it's Colt probably wondering whether Punk is coming to get ready for the show tonight, they have a tag against Raven and Daniels, but Punk decidedly had enough talks with Cabana for today, so he just picks himself up from Raven's couch and rushes away to his hotel.

The fact that Raven actually kisses him goodbye confuses the shit out of him yet again_ – it's becoming a thing, Punkers, you probably should be getting used to this – _but strengthens his determination to get hold of Raven after their match. No way he's going to sleep peacefully next to the man who has been driving him crazy for the past months.

Ace, Joe and Colt himself grace his room with their presence when he returns to his hotel, all lined up like some sort of a sick parental control, waiting for their prodigal son to return from the night of partying and debauchery. That's another situation he has never expected to find himself in, usually he's the one waiting up for them for the sole purpose of mocking the living shit of them.

"Before you start anything stupid, Cabana, I'd like to point out that I at least wasn't the one willing to blow his best friend." Punk points a finger at Colt, offense is the best defense, he figures, it is damn near impossible to make Colt shut the fuck up but it's worth the shot anyway. He has an hour to get to today's venue and he has a shitload of preparing to do still, given that Raven has offered him to stay at his place for a night, so there's stuff to be picked up and check-out to be done and he really isn't in the mood for Colt's idiotic jokes.

"So that's what happened? He blew you? And we're making such a fuss about it?" Colt ignores the suggestion not to say anything stupid, at least for now, but sure as hell Punk isn't going to let it slide just like that.

"You disappoint me, Punk." Joe shakes his head in disapproval.

"_You _are making a fuss. I came to take my stuff and get to work."

"You sure you can perform today?"

"That's a cheap shot." Ace interferes. Ah, good old Ace, always there to rescue Punk's sorry ass, even when it doesn't really need rescuing, _I got this, Ace, no way I'm letting Cabana get away with this whole set up, it's gonna come to bite him in the ass, fuck, Punkers, work on your phrasing, man, this whole Raven thing definitely got you thinking all the wrong things._

"Yeah, Joe, you heard him. They didn't even fuck."

"Fuck you," he says for what seems like thousandth time, he's been telling them that way too often as of late but what can he do, they're asking for it, since when did his best friends turn against him? But there is no time to contemplate on that, there is absolutely no time for anything at all if he wants to make it to the arena in time, and if he won't, he can be damn sure there will be a healthy dose of mockery from Raven's part and Colt's stupid, _not at all fucking funny _remarks would seem baby's whisper compared to what that man can say. Old man can talk, damn him to hell, he definitely can, he talked the fucking Jarretts into giving him a shot in TNA - the level of convincing doesn't really get higher than that.

"It was a joke, Punk, ok? A fucking _joke._" Cabana declares when Ace and Joe are gone, seeing that the whole mocking thing isn't really going to get any better than that. It takes a while for Punk to comprehend what the fuck is Colt rambling about again, because his things are scattered all over the place and he has to stuff it all in one bag, since it looks like he's trading rooming with Colt for an attempt to seduce the hell out of Raven. The thought of seducing makes him grin, Punk doesn't really do seducing, but being rejected twice in some 24 hours doesn't look good on his Chick Magnet profile; _then again, Raven isn't exactly a chick_, and there we go, he got distracted again.

"Say what?"

"Me… offering… you _know_." Colt finishes the sentence with a wiggle of his eyebrows, and he's red as a fucking tomato and Punk be damned if he's not going to take a shot cheap as it may be.

"Didn't sound like a joke to me," He throws, _take that, see how it feels_, and he even though he didn't think it was possible to get any redder, Colt did. What is redder than a tomato? That's right, Cabana talking about anything related to sex. "But I'm with Raven now anyway, and poor as his skills might be," yup, he's still sticking with the whole he-is-not-all-that-good thing, just to be safe, not to get ahead of himself, "I think you'd be even worse."

"_With _Raven? Like, a relationship?"

"I don't fucking know, ok?" The conversation got slightly more serious way too fast, and even it is something he has to think through, it's definitely not the time. When _will _the time be right though, knowing him, he's gonna ignore it all and just roll with it, perfectly knowing that nothing good ever comes of it.

"You so are," Colt states for him.

"You have a problem with it?"

"No," Colt raises his hands in defense, _the hell you don't,_ Punk thinks, but that's another thing to deal with later, now he really, really has to go. "I just think he's not the best guy around to be _with _as in having a relationship."

"What, _you_ are then?"

"Would you leave this, please?"

"You started it." Punk shrugs, throwing his socks into the open bag.

"You're not even rooming with me now?"

"Jealous?" Punk wonders how far he can actually push this before it gets out of hand; being tackled to the ground by angry Cabana isn't something to look forward to.

"NO, for fuck's sake, Punkers, it was a fucking JOKE!" Yeah, tackling is definitely going to happen if he doesn't get the hell out of there before it's too late. He grabs the bag, it'll have to do for the time being, if he left something behind, Colt will pick it up. "It's just… just… It's Raven, Punk! Raven! For a recreational fuck it might be ok, but rooming with him it's like… it's like fraternizing with an enemy!"

"Enemy? Grow up, Colt."

* * *

"Problems with bloodflow at your feeble age are pretty common, you know," Punk states with mock empathy. "You shouldn't be so fucking surprised each time I bust you open in a ring."

Raven says nothing as he wipes the blood from his lip, he could fucking swear kid does it on purpose, he could swear he enjoys it so, little twisted fucker, but he says nothing, his anger sort of melts in the sight of victorious Punk, even though his gloating slightly lessens Raven's pride for the kid's victory. Yes, he is fucking proud of him, he deserves every goddamn push Raven can possibly think of. It is surprising though – not the fact that he is so glad about his own loss – no, the fact that he cares at all is what puzzles him the most, whatever happened to ROH and wrestling in general being boring and depressing? It's this damned kid, he is sure, what he is less sure of is whether he should be grateful or not.

"You should get used to losing too."

"Fuck you. Also, stop s_taring, _for fuck's sake, it's rude and disconcerting."

"I'm not staring."

_Here we go, the indecisiveness and denial all over again and I thought we were done with this._

"So, your stinky hotel or my place?" When in doubt, be blunt, this works out pretty well usually, but this time Raven isn't the one in doubt but if this tactic helps him to come to a decision he doesn't see a reason why it shouldn't work on Punk.

Oh, and it so does, apparently, when Punk's face lights up with that special little smirk, Raven can't help but to smile back.

When they make it to Raven's place, the moment the front door closes serves as a signal for both of them as they attack each other's lips, hungrily, more teeth and tongues and metal against metal, they're on the right track, Raven thinks, steadily moving, sugary sweetness of their kisses is a thing of the past. It's most definitely not a bad thing though, it clearly leaves the room for more action and they can catch up on romance later on if Punk wants to –

_ Stop with that bullshit, Raven, first chivalry and then romance, since when do you do romance in the first place – _

But the said Punk is already dragging him towards the bedroom and as they pass the doorway Raven makes him slow the fuck down, he wraps his hands around his waist, he leans in to him as close as he can and nuzzles against his neck – yes, fucking _nuzzles_ – and the sound Punk makes at the contact with Raven's scruffy facial hair is so absolutely priceless.

Yeah, it seems the decision is made.

Slowing down is the way to go, though, even though Punk doesn't think so. All that eagerness is admirable but won't end well, and it goes against all of Raven's intentions. Punk turns around in the embrace and they kiss again, moving somewhere, entangling themselves in each other, bringing their clothed erections in contact.

Too fast. Way too fast.

"Shh," Raven whispers as his knees hit the bed in a haste push Punk gives him, "No reasons to rush."

"I could give you at least two."

"Shut up."

The command is interpreted in all the wrong ways when Punk makes an incredibly fast work of his t-shirt and jeans and he leans down to strip Raven to which he lets him, only to slow him down when he straddles him. Raven's hands fit so perfectly on Punk's waist, yet he turns both of them over, sliding down Punk's body, placing lingering kisses as he goes, but Punk is not having any of it.

"_Now_," He basically growls at him.

Not really something Raven can say no to.

He squeezes some lube onto his fingers, warming it up a bit, coating himself well too, andPunk tenses up just a little bit when one well-slicked finger breaches his entrance. Raven slows down even more, now it's agonizingly slow, for both of them, Punk's look clearly states _hurry the fuck up, _but despite the fact that Raven's eagerness matches his, he keeps the slow pace. Preparing Punk is decidedly more enticing than he thought, he is so tight it makes Raven's breath hitch with anticipation, and yet when he adds the second finger he makes his strokes even slower, deeper, but slower no less. He knows he has found Punk's spot when he gasps, loudly, Raven hits it once again but no more, a little preview of what is about to come is enough, he certainly doesn't want him to come that fast. No, this time he wants Punk to come when he's inside him, screaming his name, nails digging into his back. He decides Punk is fully ready when he starts to thrust against his fingers, clearly asking for more.

He leans for a kiss, pushing Punk's legs further apart, and no hesitation this time, just a fiercer kiss and even an impatient little bite. Raven grins into the kiss as he lines his cock with Punk's entrance and pushes ever so gently. It still makes Punk inhale sharply, much too sharply for Raven's liking so he stills, only an inch inside.

"You ok?"

Punk nods, but the kid is known for his stoical suffering through the pain and Raven needs a little bit more reassurance than a half-assed, pained nod.

"We can stop any time. It _is _your call."

"Yeah, as if you could stop now."

"You'd be surprised."

"Shut up," it's Punk's turn to say that, and he rocks his hips, impatiently, "Shut up and fuck me."

So Raven does exactly that, slowly at first, he enters Punk fully, getting hold of Punk's cock at the same time and stroking him inside and out in the same gentle, slow pace. He leans for short kisses every now and again, Punk tries to keep him down longer, but Raven wants to admire him; he is so damn beautiful, damp hair all over the pillow, skin coated with a thin layer of sweat, hips bucking up to meet his thrusts faster and faster, against Raven's determination not to hurt him. Punk wraps his legs around Raven's waist and this is when he loses all the control over the situation, because Punk pulls him closer with a strong pull of his legs, unexpected, but not an unwanted leverage, making him moan and bite down Punk's collarbone and he can just feel him smiling. He still doesn't stop though, he aims his every push at that special spot and their moans mix into one as the climax is getting closer for the both of them.

Punk comes hard, stream after stream covering Raven's hand and his stomach, Raven's name on his lips, just as he wanted. His inner muscles constrict around Raven's cock, and he barely manages a couple more stokes before coming too and collapsing on top of Punk, burying his face in the crook of his neck and nuzzling again. Yeah, this whole nuzzling could definitely become a thing, he thinks as they both catch their breath and Raven sighs in content. He could also totally fall asleep like this, yes, now he can just roll from him, but keep his head in the same place, inhale that scent of Punk's, sweat and sex and something else and let it lull him to sleep.

But much to Raven's disappointment Punk has other plans; he had his sleep last night, and knowing him it is likely those few hours are more than enough to keep him going for another four fucking days, which Raven hopes to god is not going to happen. They share a lazy kiss and the Punk rolls of the bed, he talks about something Raven can't bring himself to listen to, but sleep is clearly postponed. It seems neither of them is really the cuddling or pillow talk type, because after all they end up watching Dinero's matches which is pretty damn ridiculous all things considered, and discussing the match they have just shared. It fascinates Raven how Punk can go from sprawled undone state to complete hyper in a matter of minutes, his energy and passion are once again admirable, and this makes Raven slightly jealous, that fire for wrestling burning so fiercely when his own is long gone, _well, maybe not all that gone, _he thinks, _at least I somewhat care again, if not for myself, then for him, but the spark is there. _

Speaking of sparks.

Punk turns the TV off and throws the remote in the general pile of clothes on the floor and just the second Raven hopes he is about to get some well-deserved rest kid just creeps closer to him, pulling him up for one hell of a kiss and against his own will Raven finds it completely reasonable to postpone the bedtime for an hour or so. But he'd be damned to give in so easily.

"Don't you ever sleep, kid?"

"Batman doesn't sleep." Punk grins at him from above, green eyes shining, and Raven decides that this whole teasing thing is not bound to last too long.

"Batman doesn't wrestle either. So quit your ministrations and sleep, for fuck's sake."

"You just can't keep up with me, old man." Cool metal of Punk's lip ring makes Raven shiver as he traces a line of tiny little kisses down his neck. He closes his eyes and can barely hold back a moan, but he just has to have the last word.

"Don't tempt me, kid."

But, of course, he does.

* * *

Thanks for your love, it is most appreciated as always! I thought I might want to clarify that it's semi-kayfabe, meaning I pretend that winning or losing isn't scripted. It will be a little more important later on. I feel like this chapter is kind of all-over-the-place, but as the sweet **lamentomori**pointed out, Punk doesn't really know what he wants and what he should do with that while Raven just stands in the corner and tries to wait him out.

Also, did all the lovely anons abandon the ship?


	7. A spoonful of tar in a barrel of honey

Sorry this took so long, real life caught up with me and has been all kinds of weird and intense. I hope this will be worth your wait, dear readers and reviewers! I appreciate each and every one of you, you guys are amazing :)

* * *

**Chapter 7: A spoonful of tar in a barrel of honey**

There never will be the time to stop and think things over, it would seem, because when Punk wakes up first and, judging from the clock and Raven's peaceful sleep, there is nowhere he should be rushing to, he still could find so many things he'd rather be doing than to analyzing what the fuck is happening between him and Raven. Watching the said Raven sleep is, apparently, one of those things, because Punk just can't look away from the older man lying right beside him. Clearly, neither of them are cuddlers, they both value their own personal spaces even in their sleep, keeping their distance, which now gives Punk a possibility to stare all he wants not changing his position.

Sleeping Raven is in no way more peaceful or relaxed than he is awake; it seems the older man is fighting some unknown inner battles even in his dreams, his brows furrowed, fists clenching the sheets, breath heavy, murmuring something Punk can't quite decipher. For a change Raven isn't hiding under those ridiculous amounts of blankets he usually puts over his head to ignore the surroundings, and this probably is the reason of his dissatisfaction. Punk is genuinely surprised that his staring doesn't wake Raven up as it did last morning, but the man seems to be deeply engaged in something that seems like a very bad dream, at least Punk thinks so until he hears his name leave Raven's lips, very quiet, but distinctive whisper, with an undertone of concern and worry. Ignoring his usual principles Punk scoots closer, sneaking one hand under Raven's part of the covers, and carefully half-hugs him, covering them in the blanket completely with his free hand. Apparently this gives Raven some sense of safety and comfort, because his breath slows down and his fists unclench, one hand sliding down Punk's side.

Punk sighs and presses his forehead to Raven's shoulder.

_You're pretty deep in this, aren't you, Punkers? _

He closes his eyes firmly, determined not to have this conversation with himself for as long as it is possible to postpone it, but no, his inner doubts apparently decided that he has this talk _now. _Somehow his doubtful side sounds awfully like Colt would if Punk was to give him the chance to continue talking, which he, thankfully, didn't. Cabana would probably be able to provide him with a most thorough analysis of his newfound _relationship, _damn, he still can't stop from scowling at the word, but then again, Colt's interest in all this seems to be way too suspicious for the analysis to be unbiased. _One thing at a time, Punk, _he thinks, first he deals with Raven and then and only _then _with whatever the fuck has gotten into Cabana lately.

_Focus, Punk. Deep shit, remember?_

Yeah, it surely doesn't get deeper than this, sharing the same air with Raven and pretending to guard him from his bad dreams, guard Raven, that's just fucking ridiculous, he is the last person who would need someone to protect and fucking _hold _him in his sleep, and yet here they are, same blankets, same air to breathe, almost wrapped in each other's embrace. The fact that this is what it takes for Raven to sleep peacefully worries Punk entirely more than it should, together with the fact that he is more than okay with being there. Almost too close. Almost loving.

_Remember how you just saw him and decided that you hate him? _

Of course, he remembers.

_And now you are cuddling by his side. You're fucked up, you know that, Punk?_

Of course, he does.

But then again, so is Raven, they could be a fucking perfect match based on how fucked in the head they both are, and how their more or less soft sides reveal themselves when they're together, it's almost adorable, and yes, he's willing to say it once more, almost fucking _loving. _Somehow the idea of them being a thing now doesn't sound weird or appalling in the slightest, it is actually pretty tempting now that he has admitted, at least to himself, that he has fallen for Raven, so much that he is willing to look past his own principles and Raven's lifestyle. Punk still hates his life choices with passion, but it's not Raven himself that he hates, no, just his habits and lack of ambition and poor decisions he used to and still keeps making. How Raven feels about this whole thing is still a fucking mystery to Punk, of course, he was the one to initiate this whole relationship thing, but then again, Raven isn't exactly known for sticking to people, looking back at his history of conquests it is pretty damn obvious that stability isn't his thing.

The way he treats him, however, is entirely different from all Punk has expected from a person like Raven; he acts as if Punk is some sort of a fragile glass figure which needs to be wrapped in cotton, to be kept safe and taken care of, this is not something he is used to, usually he's the caring and pampering one, even though he's not doing it as well as he could be, his relationships never quite work out the way he wants to, he's never there when his girlfriend at a time needs him, he loves wrestling more than anything or anyone, and no one ever is able to accept that. Raven, however, seems to be pretty damn understanding and supportive in this case, and there it is, one more reason why they would be so great together.

Punk briefly replays the memories from last night in his head, all the caring and that painful slowness of Raven's actions; it still hurt like a bitch in the beginning though, Punk is not entirely sure that doing it the second time was a good idea or that he will be in his top condition for the tryout today because of that, but he doesn't regret it one bit. If he would have to be completely honest with himself now – which he apparently has to do since his imaginary psychoanalytical Colt voice won't leave him in peace – he thought that having sex with Raven and relieving all the frustrations would put him at ease and would set him free from his apparent obsession with Raven. He viewed it as some sort of obstacle to overcome and then continue his usual life, but that doesn't seem to be happening. _Hence, you're still here, overthinking and musing and arguing with imaginary voices in your head. _

As if on cue, Raven shifts in bed, wrapping his hands around Punk completely and pulling him even closer, he's half awake, it would seem, when he murmurs in the crook of Punk's neck, tickling the sensitive skin with his breath.

"Are you done yet?"

"Done with what?"

"Musing. And staring. You manage to do both things so loudly it actually woke me up from a pretty terrifying dream."

_Yeah, that's not what woke you up,_ Punk thinks, but just smiles instead, and feels Raven's smile widen against his neck, slowly transforming into a feather-light kiss before Raven wiggles out of the sheets and props himself on the elbows.

"I am genuinely surprised to find you still here though," he says, not all that sleepy anymore, dark brown eyes squinted and boring into Punk's, "You seemed so eager to get into my pants that I was certain you'd bail the moment you got what you wanted."

Punk sighs and breaks the staring contest they're apparently seem to be doing traditionally now; he'd been entertaining the idea of leaving for a while when he just woke up, but Raven seemed to be needing him and yeah, this is something the older man definitely doesn't need to hear.

"Why are you so set on labeling whatever is happening between us?" he asks instead; it's a sneaky attempt to figure out where exactly Raven stands on this now when they both got what they wanted the most, but of course, Raven sees right through his intentions.

"Because you're so set against it, obviously," he responds simply with a grin. That one grin that Punk finds particularly annoying, to be precise; the fact that he has accepted falling for him doesn't mean that Raven automatically stopped being an annoying asshole.

"Should I call you honey then? _Babe?_"

Raven seems at loss of words for a change, amused at the same time, the grin changes to a more gentle smile as he kisses Punk's forehead.

"You are adorable, kid."

"Is that the moment where you tell me that you don't do relationships?" Being called adorable isn't something Punk is accustomed to either, and he can't help but find it somewhat demeaning.

"I _do _relationships. They just tend not to work out, as I'm sure you have gathered from my reputation you seem to be referring to so often." Raven responds, getting out of bed and gathering his clothes from the floor. "How about we continue this topic on our way? We need to get to Nashville before they start the show tonight."

"Sure," Punk replies, more than happy to have this kind of a conversation postponed. "I'll just go and get the tank filled."

Raven stops halfway through the bathroom door and gives Punk an almost terrified look.

"No fucking way we're going by that pathetic bucket you call a car."

"Hey! The Monte is in perfect condition!" You can insult him, you can insult his friends, but one does not simply insult his car, one of his most prized possessions. Raven's frown goes only deeper, though, he doesn't seem convinced even in the slightest. "It's a four-hour drive tops, nothing will happen, for fuck's sake."

"Exactly. Four hours. We might die in that thing. It's my car or you're going on your own."

* * *

There is a brief battle over who is driving, but it is ultimately won by Raven telling that it's his car and he gets to drive it, and by Punk's expression Raven can tell the kid remembered just why exactly he hated him in the first place. This never ceases to amuse him, just how versatile Punk is towards him. He himself as accepted the inevitable and irreversible fall for this indecisive, driven and cocky kid with the attitude that usually makes people punch him in the face; this and just how messed up Punk is reminds Raven of how he used to be, back in the day, when he still had the passion to achieve something in his life. Punk might have brought some of the old spark back, yes, maybe that is the reason why Raven is so invested in this whole thing, why he wants to give the kid every possible push he can manage. He simply doesn't want Punk to end up as he did; it is always better to burn out than fade away, he thinks, even though he doesn't really follow his own advice. Fading away is precisely what he is doing at the moment, or, at least, _was _doing before meeting Punk. It is funny how fast things can change, how this kid changes things, to be exact, and Raven is forced to admit that he owes him much, much more than a good fuck.

They ride in unusual silence for a few hours, Raven can perfectly see that something is bugging Punk, but it has become a tradition of his to wait him out; if he will feel like it, he will talk. About an hour away from Nashville he finally speaks up, just when Raven starts to worry, and it is not exactly the conversation he has been expecting.

"So, you and Dreamer. Truth or bullshit?" Punk asks, seemingly still deep in his thoughts, smiling through the window when Raven throws a questioning glance at him.

"Are we doing this now?" He rolls his eyes, But Punk doesn't look at him still, and Raven is yet to determine why.

"Yup." Is the simple reply and Raven can just sigh at that.

"Bullshit then."

"Beulah?"

"True. Very true. I almost ended up marrying her." Punk finally looks at him, eyebrows raised. " Luckily, I had Stevie to talk me out of it." Raven cuts a short laugh, he is greatly amused by the terrified look Punk gives him.

"Marry? Why the fuck would you marry in the first place?"

"Hey, don't be so shocked. I _was, _in fact, married."

"Really? To whom?"

"You seem awfully concerned."

"I'm just trying to find out our chances in this."

"And this will help you?" Raven can't help but to find himself skeptical, he fails to see how this conversation is contributing to anything at all.

"Humor me," Punk insists.

"Selina Kyle," Raven replies hesitantly, he can perfectly imagine kid's reaction even before he gives any. Of course, he doesn't disappoint.

"…You've got to be fucking kidding me." The expression is beyond priceless, but as much as Raven would like to admire it, he is still driving. "Selina Kyle. You're not serious, are you?"

"Wanna see our divorce certificate? I'm sure I still carry it around," He grins, eyes on the road. "Why does that bother you so much? The name alone made it worth marrying her."

He can see Punk shaking his head in disbelief before he continues his interrogation.

"Saturn?"

"Lies. Horrible, filthy lies."

"Stevie Richards?"

"True."

"Chris Jericho?"

"True. More or less."

"Sandman?"

"Bullshit."

"Sandman's wife?"

"Are you shitting me?" Now it's Raven's time to raise his eyebrows. "Even you should be able to tell what's kayfabe and what's not." Punk doesn't respond to that, his stare is aimed at the passing scenery in the window, a small smile creeping in the corner of his lips, and this time even Raven can't figure out what caused it. This whole conversation seemed completely out of context but he is damn sure that Punk had some sort of a point to prove with it, and the smartest thing to do is to wait him out again.

"For someone with your reputation awful lot of rumors are indeed just that. I'm almost disappointed." He finally says, a trace of light sarcasm and strange satisfaction in his voice contradicting the very idea of disappointment; Punk, in fact, seems pretty relieved by the actual amount of Raven's pervious relationships, and Raven wonders why the fuck would that be of any interest to Punk in the first place.

"Most of my conquests won't exactly go down in history, you know."

"I somehow though that fucking ring rats should be beneath you."

"That's why I'm fucking you now." _Take that, _he thinks, that's what you get for being a nosy secretive annoying little shit, and of course, the words work their magic, uncertainty and confusion coloring Punk's face, if Raven can judge correctly by the small off-side glance he allows himself to throw at him.

"That's why? I thought – "

"You think too much." Raven murmurs.

"–relationship. Or it's one of those no strings attached things?"

"There's no such thing as 'no strings attached'. There is _always _something wrong with that concept. Especially if you fucked more than once. If something made you want to fuck that person twice, there is definitely something attached." So this is what was worrying him all this time, of course, he could've gathered as much, kid seems to be insecure as hell, and Raven isn't entirely sure that his words reassure him in any way, but hey, this is the best he can do, sure as hell he is not going to explain the whole depth of his feelings just now.

"So now you're attached to me, old man? Ain't that sweet. You're getting old and sentimental, Raven." That self-assured smirk will drive him crazy one day, Raven can just feel it.

"I'm not that old. Kid." The word, however, doesn't sound quite as demeaning as he would like it to, so he grins inwardly and adds, quietly, but he knows damn well that Punk will hear him, "Philly."

It does the trick, of course it does, Punk pouts and throws a death glare at Raven, kid is so easy to read and so predictable; even though Raven usually considers these qualities boring and being one of the most obvious signs of the relationship coming to an end, he really must be getting old, soft and sentimental, because the things that used to bore him to death are now completely adorable. He has no idea what is so fascinating about getting to know Punk, to be able to read his every expression and to know what he's going to say before the damned kid even opens his mouth, but he just can't get enough of that feeling.

"Call me Philly again and I'll bite you."

"Color me terrified," Raven snorts; annoyed Punk is about as cute as blushing Punk, and this might be one of the reasons why they wouldn't stop bickering at each other even though they really have no reason to, bicker and snark just for the sake of it, because that's how they both function; sugary sweetness and sarcasm, they can do both in equal amounts and they balance it out just perfectly.

"Okay. Call me Phil and I'll start calling you Scotty. Or Anthony. How'd you like _that_?" Punk smirks in response, clearly, the same thoughts just crossed his mind too, because serious as it was, the threat was carried out with some unusual softness in his tone, something Raven isn't quite used to hearing from Punk but something that happens progressively more often, and he's not entirely sure what to make of it.

"Legit point," Raven just nods in response and pulls over. "Let's just stick to Punk and Raven then."

"What happened to _babe _and _honey_?"

"Don't push it, kid," Raven can't help but grin widely. "We're almost there. Are you worried?"

"Not at all," Punk smirks at him, "I'm the best they've seen in a long, long time."

* * *

It is true, of course, he passes his tryout brilliantly, and is booked to perform with Raven and the rest of the Flock – they call it the Gathering now – on the next show. TNA seems more challenging, more people to shine between, more legends to work with; Punk is fascinated by this new world entirely more than he should be according to Raven. Raven, in turn, is jealous far more than he is used to be, Punk makes friends easier than a person with his less than sunny disposition should, AJ Styles and Julio, all younger and probably better for Punk to spend time with than his old grumpy ass, but Punk, it would seem, has made his decision clear.

The idea of him working in TNA and in ROH at the same time that Raven has hatched for the sole purpose of being able to see Punk more often went ass over tits, now they are apart more often than together, Punk is really exhausting himself, being ripped apart between two companies, but he never complains, he seems to be oddly satisfied with not being able to catch a break. The moments they share now are few and far in between, just on those occasions they are booked together in Philly or Atlanta and don't have to rush anywhere the next day. Quality over quantity, though, that is the way to go it would seem to Raven. Never has he felt such a strong connection to someone, such a strong desire to have one particular person by his side, this attachment grows stronger each time they see each other and Raven isn't even pissed at himself for it anymore. When they fight, whether together or against each other, they return to some hotel together and just sleep together, and it doesn't necessarily involve sex, more often than not it doesn't, they are both too tired, so they tangle together and just sleep, apparently, the no cuddling rule has gotten thrown away too, but they never mention it. They are together, as much as it can get, neither them nor their friends question it. Punk and Raven is a thing now, no questions asked, no comments whispered, no gimmicks needed, but Raven can't help but to wonder how long it all is going to last.

He, of all people, should know that nothing good lasts long.

At least, not for him.

That's not another "poor, poor pitiful me" promo he's trying to pull off on himself when Punk is hundreds of miles and a few time zones away and he misses him so badly it hurts. If anything, he is happy to have someone to miss, someone to love again, and now he is not afraid to use that word anymore. He never says it out loud though, partly because he hopes Punk will catch up on the idea and partly because he doesn't want to jinx it, he doesn't want to promise anything he is not sure he could keep.

And now he is less than sure he can keep this, he is not sure he actually has any right to keep Punk by his side, not after their last time in Chicago, when he visited Punk's old place for the first time and both of them had the whole two days off before their paths would part again. Two days of sugar and perfection, and now, when it's 2 a.m. in Atlanta and hell knows how late in wherever Punk is, Raven can't help but to go back to these two days.

How could something so perfect get so damn tragic so fast?

* * *

Whole two days off, it would be a shame to waste them, and even Punk is not sure that inviting Raven to stay at his old place in Chicago is a good idea, he does it with only a heartbeat of hesitation. It all pays off in the end though, there is nothing to worry about and he thinks of himself as a complete idiot to doubt the idea when the very moment they lock the doors he feels Raven snuggling against his neck, it seems a tradition now, neither of them is surprised by their sudden urges to be all cuddly; they haven't had a chance to enjoy some quality time together in the past week, they have missed each other for long enough and romance can wait, Punk figures, turning around, and apparently Raven has the same idea when he pulls him up for a heated kiss, and Punk gladly wraps his hands around Raven's back, dragging him closer, wanting more contact than just scruffy facial hair against his, smooth tongue and cool metal darting in and out his mouth, large warm hands making their way under his t-shirt. They know each other's bodies and usual movements so well by know, and yet it still strikes Punk how good it feels just to kiss him and how competitive they both are about it, how Raven never misses the chance to bite on his lip piercing, neither of them wanting to submit although they both know how exactly it is going to end.

The current position is not exactly comfortable for what Punk – and, he is certain, Raven as well – has in mind, but bedroom is too far away to be considered s an option, so the tiny hallway of his shoebox of an apartment will have to do, Punk decides, peeling of Raven's leather jacket and letting it slide down on the floor. Raven grins at the enthusiasm – of course he does, it always amuses the fucker for whatever reason – but Punk is not stopping, he grabs the hem of Raven's shirt and pulls him closer, his own back hitting the wall, but the older man doesn't quite catch up on the idea that they should hurry the fuck up. He has some issues, Punk is certain, this whole taking it slow thing, something about him not wanting to hurt him, but two days is plenty of time for recovery, he figures, and the moment he feels Raven's hands on his ass he jumps up slightly and wraps his legs around Raven's waist. Their groins are in full contact now, both of them are getting hard already, the anticipation is killing Punk already, but Rave apparently has set his goal on murdering him today when he picks him up and carries him all the way to the bed. Another quirk of his, doing it properly, bed only, _you're never up to any fun, _Punk whines in between the kisses, and Raven just grins to that. He's not doing anything to ease the situation still.

Punk wiggles out of his clothes rather fast considering that he is pinned down to bed by Raven's weight, and he moans softly in anticipation when Raven's hands follow his movements, tracing every newly exposed area of Punk's body. He presses upwards, urging his lover to get rid of those offending clothes too, and for a change Raven complies, he finally is as naked as Punk wants him to be, but this is where the rush stops again. Menacingly slowly, Raven leans down to kiss him, deeply and slowly, it lasts for far too long for Punk's liking, but he finally breaks the kiss when he feels Raven's hand closing around him, stoking him with the same maddening slowness to the full hardness.

"C'mon, Raven, please."

The older man just smirks at him before brushing a barely-there kiss on his neck and places both of his hands on the pillow on both sides of Punk's head.

"Seriously. Are you going to stall all night?"

"Patience, young grasshopper – "

But this is when Punk decides that stopping Raven's smartasssery by talking is a dead number and taking actions in his own hands – literally – is the way to go as he wraps his hand around Raven's cock too.

"Are we seriously gonna turn this into a mutual jerk-off session?"

"You leave me no choice," Raven shakes his head with mock disappointment.

"Finally," Punk breathes out when he feels Raven's lube-covered finger entering him, he rolls his hips in appreciation, it doesn't hurt like it did the first time and Raven knows exactly how to make it pleasurable from the very beginning, so the preparation doesn't take as long as it usually would, he starts bucking up when the second finger is added, and Raven finally catches up on the idea on hurrying the fuck up.

He enters him slowly still, in one long deep thrust, and Punk grips on Raven's hips, setting or a perfect rhythm with one hand and stroking himself with another. When Raven's hand joined his he's not entirely sure, but being stroked inside and out with the exact pace he has set for brings him closer and closer to the end. He tightens his muscles down there in anticipation of the orgasm building up and to his surprise Raven comes first, thrusting deeper into him a few times before collapsing on top of him, still continuing to stroke Punk.

"I lov-"

"Don't," Raven cuts him off more roughly than Punk would like, but this is soon forgotten in his efforts to catch his breath after he's been sent over the edge by Raven's hand.

"So, what are you doing next? Our feud can't go on forever, you know." Raven muses about ten minutes later, when Punk is curled up by his side, quiet and calm for a change.

"Too bad," There is a distinct lack of enthusiasm in Punk's voice and Raven isn't quite sure whether it's just simple exhaustion or something more serious.

"You could move to TNA as a part of the regular roster," He supplies, "And then, I assume, there won't be long before WWE calls you. In fact, I had a talk with Paul E already and –"

"I don't think so," Punk yawns and looks up at Raven, green eyes still dimmed by the hazy shade of lust, now mixed with a hint of sleepiness, his look full of comfortable apathy and disinterest. "I am perfectly fine where I am. With you."

Raven has seen this look far too many times to know that this is something he should definitely be worried about.

He has seen this look in the mirror.


End file.
